THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 


JHE    WAY 
OF    THE    AIR 

A  DESCRIPTION  OF  MODERN  AVIATION 


BY 

EDGAR  C.  MIDDLETON 

("AN  Ajk  PILOT") 

U^TE  TUGBX  SUB-LIEUT.,  ILN.;  AX7TH0R  OF  "AXRCRATT" 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1917,  by 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 


All  rights  reserved  including  that  oj  translation 
into  foreign  languages 


BeWcatfon 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OP  FRIENDS 
WHO  HAVE  FALLEN  IN  THE  GREAT  FIGHT 

Captain  ADRIAN  LIDDELL,  V.C.,  R.F.C. 

Flight  Sub-Lieut,  R.  A.  J.  WARNEFORD,  V.C,  R.N. 

Flight  Lieut.  ROSHER,  R.N. 

Flight  Lieut.  TALBOT,  R.N. 

Flight  Lieut.  GRAHAM,  R.N. 

Flight  Commander  BEARD,  R.N. 

Captain  BASIL  HALLAM  RADFORD,  R.F.C. 

AND 

Second-Lieut.  ARTHUR  FISHER,  R.F.C. 

"WHO  FOUND  GLORY  ONLY  BECAUSE 

GLORY  LAY  IN  THE  PLAIN  PATH  OP  DUTY" 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

The  idea  of  this  little  boo^  Is  to  give  as  clear 
and  graphic  a  description  of  modern  aviation  as 
circumstances  will  permit ;  of  the  new,  heroic  race 
of  men  to  which  Flying  has  given  birth;  of  the 
conditions  under,  and  the  elements  in,  which  their 
work  Is  carried  out,  and  the  difficulties  and  dan- 
gers they  have  to  encounter.  Flying  Is  essentially 
a  profession  for  the  younger  generation.  The 
strain  Is  too  great  for  men  of  more  mature  years. 
To  withstand  such  strain  requires  all  the  vigor, 
the  recklessness,  the  Iron  nerve  of  youth.  It  Is  a 
profession  that  offers  an  Irresistible  appeal  to 
healthy-minded,  sport-loving  youth,  to  whom  ad- 
venture is  the  nectar  of  existence. 

The  writer's  chief  endeavor  In  the  opening 
chapters  has  been  to  help  the  young  man  who 
wishes  to  adopt  "Flying"  as  a  profession.  Part 
II  of  the  book  Is  composed  of  a  collection  of 
incidents  taken  from  the  diary  of  an  air  pilot  on 
Active  Service  somewhere  In  the  North  of  France. 
They  are  given  In  their  original  form.    I  also  wish 

vii 


viii  AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

to  thank  the  editors  of  the  Daily  Mail,  Daily 
Express,  Daily  Chronicle,  Evening  News,  and 
Boys'  Friend  for  their  courtesy  in  permitting  me 
to  use,  in  a  few  instances,  material  embodied  in 
articles  appearing  in  their  journals. 

E.  C.  M. 

London,  1917. 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 
THE  SERVICE  AIRMAN   IN  THE  MAKING 

CHAP.  PAGE 

author's  note vii 

INTRODUCTION 3 

I.  JOINING  THE  SERVICE lO 

II.  THE  airman's  first  DAYS         ....  1 7 
III.      THE  INITIAL  FLIGHT 23 

IV.     THE  PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 28 

V.     THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AIR 34 

VI,      SEAPLANES 40 

VII.     A  ZEPPELIN  CHASE          ..'....  48 

VIII.     THE  COMPLETE  AIRMAN S3 


PART   II 
ON  ACTIVE  SERVICE 

IX.  BEHIND  THE  FIRING  LINE 

X.  THE  FIRST  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LINE 

XI.  SOME  ANECDOTES 

XII.  SPORT  EXTRAORDINARY 


XIII.     A  BALLOON-TRIP  BY  NIGHT 
ix 


61 
66 

74 
81 

85 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAT  PAOI 

XIV.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WOOD        ....  92 

XV.  A  TIGHT  CORNER 97 

XVI.  AN  AIR  PIGHT  WITH  A  HUN       .       .        .       .  I08 

XVII.  THE  GREAT  RAID  ON  ZEEBRUGGE  .       .  II 4 

XVIII.  A  DAY-DREAM 1 23 

XIX.  A  MID-AIR  BATTLE  1 27 

XX.  A  BATTLE  FROM  ABOVE 132 

XXI.  A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  WAR  .       .        .  136 

XXII.  HEROISM  IN  THE  AIR 1 44 

PART   III 
OTHER  CRAFT  AND  THE  FUTURE 

XXIII.  THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  AIRSHIP  .        .  151 

XXIV.  LAWS  OF  THE  AIR 161 

XXV.  AERIAL  COMBAT 1 66 

XXVI.  THE  AIR THE  WAR — AND  AFTER         .        .  170 


PART  I 
THE  SERVICE  AIRMAN  IN  THE  MAKING 


INTRODUCTION 

In  writing  of  modern  aviation  it  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  the  sport  or  science,  call  it  what  you 
will,  was  developed  more  in  two  years  by  the  war 
than  would  have  been  possible  in  twenty-two 
years  under  normal  conditions.  Prior  to  19 14  we 
did  not  look  upon  aircraft  and  aviation  with  the 
degree  of  interest  that  their  useful  qualities  war- 
ranted. Instead  we  were  apt  to  regard  them  rather 
in  the  manner  of  a  sporting  spectacle,  in  much  the 
same  light  as  a  football  match,  or  a  boxing  enter- 
tainment, or  as  the  piece  de  resistance  of  the  show- 
men; thus  aircraft,  the  greatest  and  most  potential 
discovery  of  all  the  ages,  had  to  prove  their  worth 
in  the  maiming  of  humanity  and  the  destruction 
of  property. 

Quietly  and  unobtrusively  they  were  introduced 
into  the  plans  of  war;  it  must  be  admitted  greatly 
despised  and  with  a  strong  feeling  of  repugnance. 
Gradually — so  gradually  as  almost  to  be  unnoticed 
— they  began  to  prove  their  worth. 

From  the  very  first  days  of  the  war  it  began  to 
be  realized  that  we  must  have  aircraft.  Our  large 
Navy  was  in  desperate  need  of  seaplanes  to  hunt 

3 


4  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

the  enemy  warships  from  their  lairs  and  his  mer- 
chantmen from  the  seas.  In  the  same  way  our  tiny 
Army  required  aeroplanes,  but  for  a  somewhat 
different  reason :  to  be  prepared  against  all  enemy 
surprises,  which  in  those  desperate  days  of  early 
1 9 14  would  have  been  fatal. 

As  the  war  developed,  the  various  belligerents 
began  to  settle  down,  to  restore  order  from  the 
chaos,  and  to  prepare  for  a  long  and  arduous  cam- 
paign. Then  the  cry  came  for  aircraft,  more  and 
more  aircraft.  In  England  the  great  engineering 
shops  and  factories  were  peremptorily  ordered  by 
the  Government  to  abandon  their  work  and  to 
construct  aeroplanes  as  fast  as  they  were  able. 
Meanwhile  the  enemy,  who  had  long  been  pre- 
pared, began  to  obtain  an  overwhelming  mastery 
of  the  air — it  will  always  remain  a  mystery  why  he 
did  not  use  his  aircraft  to  better  effect  at  Mons 
and  the  Marne.  After  four  and  six  months,  fresh 
craft  came  out  from  England,  and  it  was  then  the 
enemy,  in  his  turn,  was  driven  from  the  air.  For 
some  time  we  were  allowed  to  retain  that  mastery, 
then  the  enemy  came  along  with  a  rush  with  the 
new  and  powerful  Albatross  and  Aviatik,and  again 
we  retired  into  the  background  for  a  time.  Mean- 
while, aeroplane  factories  were  springing  up  all 
over  the  country,  and  the  production  of  machines 
was  going  up  by  leaps  and  bounds; — undeniable 
proof  this  of  the  value  such  craft  were  to  the 


INTRODUCTION  5 

military  commanders.  Thus  the  mad  race  went 
on.  Fast,  graceful,  single-seater  scouts,  slower 
and  larger  reconnaissance  craft;  huge,  powerful- 
engined  battle-planes  made  their  appearance  in 
quantities  hitherto  undreamt  of,  and  were  dis- 
patched in  never-ending  stream  across  the  Chan- 
nel, there  to  play  their  part  in  the  war. 

Dipping  into  the  past,  it  may  be  said  that  by 
1784  flight  by  balloon  was  well  under  way,  and 
that  year  a  woman — Madame  Thible — made  a 
trip  in  the  presence  of  King  Gustavus  III  of  Swe- 
den, that  lasted  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  She 
reached  an  altitude  of  9000  feet.  The  following 
year  the  first  cross-channel  trip  was  made  by 
Blanchard,  with  an  American  doctor  named  Jef- 
feries  for  passenger,  together  with  a  supply  of 
provisions  and  ballast.  This  weighed  the  balloon 
down  to  so  great  an  extent  that  she  almost  sank 
into  the  sea  a  few  moments  after  starting.  Ballast 
was  thrown  overboard  and  she  rose,  only  to  sink 
down  again.  Hurriedly  more  ballast  was  dropped, 
but  it  had  no  effect,  and  was  followed  by  every- 
thing on  which  the  aeronauts  could  lay  their  hands, 
including  provisions,  books  and  a  mass  of  corre- 
spondence. At  last  the  French  coast  loomed  into 
view,  but  the  balloon  was  now  sinking  rapidly. 
The  wings  were  thrown  overboard,  but  that  had  no 
effect.  The  aeronauts  commenced  to  strip  them- 
selves of  their  clothing.    Then  Jefferies  proposed 


6  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

to  jump  over  the  side  into  the  water,  and  was 
about  to  do  so,  when  the  balloon  rose  suddenly 
into  the  air,  and  they  landed  on  the  hills  behind 
Calais. 

Aircraft  played  a  great  part  in  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war,  and  during  the  siege  of  Paris  alone 
as  many  as  66  balloons  left  the  stricken  city,  carry- 
ing 60  pilots,  102  passengers,  409  carrier  pigeons, 
9  tons  of  letters  and  telegrams,  and  6  dogs.  Five 
of  the  dogs  were  sent  back  to  Paris,  but  were  lost 
and  never  heard  of  again,  while  57  of  the  carrier 
pigeons  carried  100,000  messages.  Of  the  66 
balloons  58  got  through,  5  fell  into  German  hands, 
and  2  into  the  sea. 

Among  the  more  historical  trips  is  that  of 
Gaston  Tissandier,  who  went  over  the  German 
lines,  and  dropped  10,000  copies  of  a  proclama- 
tion addressed  to  the  soldiers,  asking  for  peace, 
yet  declaring  that  France  would  fight  to  the  bitter 
end. 

In  South  Africa  an  observation  balloon  was  in 
use  at  Ladysmith  for  twenty-nine  days,  doing 
extremely  useful  work  in  spotting  the  Boer  artil- 
lery. The  pilot  of  an  observation  balloon  reported 
the  enemy's  position  on  Spionkop  to  be  impreg- 
nable, and,  at  Paardeberg,  another  disclosed  the 
precise  position  of  Cronje's  force  and  directed  our 
artillery  fire  thereon. 

Of  all  the  Great  Powers,  Italy  is  more  respon- 


INTRODUCTION  7 

sible,  perhaps,  than  any  other  for  the  evolution  of 
aircraft.  From  the  sixteenth  century  the  most 
accomplished  Italian  scientists  have  given  their 
attention  to  the  solving  of  the  riddle  of  the  air. 
Such  names  as  Leonardo  da  Vinci  and  Fausto 
Varanzio  stand  out  prominently  in  the  history  of 
aviation ;  and  to-day  the  Italian  rigid  airships  are 
the  best  in  the  world.  It  was,  however,  mainly 
due  to  the  efforts  of  two  Frenchmen  that  promi- 
nence was  first  given  to  aircraft.  Joseph  and 
Stephen  Montgolfier  were  the  sons  of  a  rich  paper- 
maker  of  Annoney,  and  the  story  goes  that,  while 
rowing,  Stephen's  silk  coat  fell  overboard  into  the 
water.  When  drying  the  coat  it  was  noticed  that 
the  hot  air  tended  to  make  it  rise,  and  the  upshot 
of  the  affair  was  the  Montgolfier  balloon.  Since 
those  days  France  has  devoted  herself  almost  en- 
tirely to  the  development  of  aeroplanes,  which  are 
second  only  to  those  of  German  manufacture.  To 
the  latter  power  honor,  however  unwilling,  must 
be  given  as  regards  aircraft.  On  the  outbreak  of 
war  her  aeroplanes  were  the  finest  in  the  world, 
and  her  Zeppelins  were  beyond  comparison.  Great 
Britain  possessed  an  advantageous  lead  in  the 
matter  of  aeroplanes. 

The  development  of  aviation  in  this  country 
was  mainly  due  to  the  untiring  efforts  of  the  Royal 
Aero  Club  affiliated  to  the  Federation  Aeronique 
International;   and  the   splendid   encouragement 


8  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

of  the  proprietors  of  the  Daily  Mail,  who  gener- 
ously put  aside  an  aggregate  sum  of  £37,000 
towards  prize-money  for  aeronautical  events.  The 
Federation  Aeronique  had  already  branches  in 
America,  Argentine,  Austria,  Belgium,  Britain, 
Denmark,  France,  Germany,  Holland,  Hungary, 
Italy,  Norway,  Portugal,  Russia,  Spain,  Sweden, 
Switzerland.  In  England  the  R.A.C.  controlled 
every  matter  connected  with  aviation,  such  as  the 
arranging  and  governing  of  competitions,  the 
granting  of  pilots'  certificates,  and  the  ruling  of 
the  air.  Up  to  August,  19 14,  they  had  already 
granted  926  certificates,  of  which  863  were  aero- 
plane, 24  airship  and  39  aeronaut  (balloon).  The 
first  of  their  competitions  for  the  Britannia  Chal- 
lenge Trophy  was  carried  off  by  Captain  C.  A.  N. 
Longcroft,  R.F.C.,  in  19 13  with  a  flight  from 
Montrose  to  Farnborough  via  Portsmouth,  a  dis- 
tance in  a  direct  line  of  445  miles.  It  was  the 
R.A.C.  that  arranged  the  Daily  Mail  competi- 
tions, several  of  which  have  yet  to  be  carried  out, 
including  the  £10,000  Cross-Atlantic  (by  aero- 
plane). The  Daily  Mail  International  Cross- 
country flight  for  £i,ooo  was  won  by  Louis 
Bleriot,  July  25,  1909:  it  is  needless  to  remark 
that  this  flight  has  now  become  an  everyday  occur- 
rence. The  £10,000  London  to  Manchester  flight 
was  awarded  to  Louis  Paulhan  (France).  The 
second  £10,000  circuit  of  Britain  of  loio  miles 


INTRODUCTION  9 

was  carried  off  by  Andre  Beaumont;  and  J.  T.  C. 
Brabazon  was  successful  in  the  National  Daily 
Mail  £1000  for  a  flight  of  one  mile  in  an  All 
British  machine. 

The  highest  altitude  that  had  been  reached  in 
Great  Britain  was  14,920  feet;  the  greatest  dis- 
tance flown  287  miles;  and  the  longest  duration  8 
hours  23  minutes. 

Whether  we  were  prepared  for  the  war  is  a 
matter  for  too  extensive  a  discussion  for  this  little 
book,  but  the  fact  remains  that  the  number  of 
firms  engaged  in  the  manufacturing  of  aeroplanes 
could  be  counted  on  both  hands,  and  that  we  were 
without  a  useful  and  reliable  engine  of  British 
construction. 


CHAPTER  I 

JOINING  THE  SERVICE 

The  Air  Service  is  young,  very  young;  it  is  like 
an  overgrown  schoolboy,  strong,  healthy  and  full 
of  life,  but  lacking  just  that  sense  of  proportion 
that  distinguishes  the  schoolboy  from  the  man. 
It  is  wise,  for  it  is  endowed  with  the  wisdom  of 
initiative,  courage  and  resource.  Turned  loose 
into  an  entirely  novel  and  little  understood  ele- 
ment, it  has  had  to  create  its  own  methods  of 
procedure,  its  own  ideals,  its  own  traditions. 
Reference  to  the  policies  and  the  formulas  of  past 
generations  are  impossible,  for  there  are  none  I 

The  main  principles  of  aerial  warfare  are  en- 
tirely new;  in  every  combat,  and  in  every  raid, 
some  precedent  Is  established,  some  new  form  or 
theory  of  attack  is  set  up.  To  the  airman  every 
day  Is  alike.  In  times  of  peace  he  risks  his  neck 
as  much  as  he  does  in  time  of  war,  save  that 
engaged  in  the  latter  he  has  the  additional  un- 
pleasantness of  shell  fire.  He  willingly  gives  all, 
but  asks  for  nothing.  He  Is  the  knight-errant  of 
the  twentieth  century. 

In  days  of  the  past,  it  was  the  cavalryman, 

lO 


JOINING  THE  SERVICE  ii 

wounded  and  galloping  across  country,  with  a 
hundred  foemen  hard  at  his  heels,  who  first 
brought  news  of  the  enemy  to  the  general  in  com- 
mand. His  was  a  pleasant  occupation,  that 
smacked  largely  of  daring  and  romance.  He  stood 
an  excellent  chance  of  getting  a  bullet  through  his 
lungs,  or  of  being  clapped  into  an  enemy  prison. 
To-day  there  comes  flying  across  the  heavens  a 
resolute  young  hero,  in  a  few  feet  of  wood  and 
fabric,  throwing  defiance  to  shot  and  shell  alike, 
suspended  thousands  of  feet  up  between  heaven 
and  earth,  peering  from  that  swaying  aeroplane 
at  the  panorama  of  the  earth  beneath. 

This  is  the  age  of  science  and  invention.  War 
on  and  over  the  earth,  on  and  under  the  sea.  For 
many  years  we  have  steadily  been  putting  behind 
us  the  barbarities  of  our  forbears,  we  have  be- 
come more  civilized,  and,  though  more  civilized, 
more  barbarous.  This  is  no  paradox;  science  has 
made  great  and  wonderful  strides,  but  science  has 
been  more  devilishly  ingenious  than  any  torture 
of  Spanish  Inquisition  days. 

The  airmen  who  pilot  their  frail  craft  over  hill 
and  valley,  sea  and  land,  across  cloud  and  through 
fog  and  mist,  are  the  privateers  of  modern  times; 
but  for  them  there  can  be  no  capture,  no  quarter: 
only  victory  or  a  thousand  feet  drop  to  the  cruel 
earth  below.  Through  their  young  veins  must 
flow  the  blood  of  a  Drake,  of  a  Philip  Sidney,  of 


12  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

a  Nelson.  Theirs  must  be  the  courage  of  a  con- 
queror, the  heart  of  a  lion,  the  nerve  of  a  colossus. 

No  bounded  ocean  is  their  sea,  but  the  infinity 
of  space.  The  ship's  compass  is  their  best  friend; 
for  they  maneuver  their  craft  like  a  ship  at  sea. 
Wind  and  weather  affect  them  as  they  would  a 
mariner.  For  rock,  shoal,  sandbank  and  channel 
there  are  the  high  hills,  the  tall  factory  stack,  the 
church  steeple,  and  the  deep  valley.  Landmarks 
there  are,  but  always  below,  not  on  either  side. 
Railways,  roads,  rivers,  fields,  woods  and  hills 
form  the  color  scheme  of  the  surface  of  the  earth, 
by  which  the  air  pilot  steers  a  course. 

This,  the  youngest  and  most  important  Service, 
is  essentially  one  for  the  young  man  and  of  the 
young  man :  a  Service  the  future  of  which  is  being 
steadily  built  up  by  the  "muddied  oafs  and 
flanneled  fools"  of  the  playing-fields  of  the  public 
schools  of  Great  Britain. 

Immediately  after  leaving  school  is  the  most 
perplexing  period  in  a  boy's  life.  Not  only  for 
the  boy  himself,  but  for  his  parents,  for  then  has 
to  be  considered  his  future  career.  What  is  the 
boy  capable  of?  What  are  his  own  personal 
wishes?  What  profession  is  he  best  adapted  for 
physically?     It  is  indeed  a  momentous  question. 

It  is  worse  than  useless  for  the  boy  fond  of 
good,  wholesome,  out-of-door  exercises  and  games 
to  be  put  into  an  office  or  to  study  for  the  Bar,  or 


JOINING  THE  SERVICE  13 

to  mope  his  young  life  away  pen-driving.  And, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  positive  torture  for  the 
youth  with  distinct  literary  taste,  or  love  of  things 
scholastic,  to  take  up  a  Commission  in  one  of  the 
Services,  or  to  go  in  for  farming  or  a  similar 
profession. 

Taking  everything  into  consideration,  at  least 
eighty  per  cent,  of  boys  may  be  grouped  into  the 
former  class — that  is  to  say,  they  wish  to  adopt 
a  healthy,  open-air  profession;  and  for  this  type 
of  youth  nothing  can  be  better,  and  nothing  can 
offer  greater  inducements,  than  the  profession  of 
the  airman.  It  is  a  calling  that  appeals  irresistibly 
to  a  boy's  heart. 

The  best  possible  training  for  the  pilot  of  the 
air  are  outdoor  sports  and  games.  Football, 
which  teaches  the  boy  to  keep  his  head  in  all 
emergencies,  to  keep  his  feelings  always  well  under 
control,  and  to  learn  to  obey  implicitly  the  disci- 
pline of  the  referee's  whistle  will  prove  invaluable 
to  him  when  learning  to  fly,  when  he  will  be  sub- 
ject to  every  kind  and  manner  of  unexpected  and 
sudden  mishap  and  accident. 

Cricket  will  teach  him  patience,  judgment — so 
invaluable  when  landing  an  aeroplane  (which,  in- 
cidentally, is  by  far  the  most  difficult  feat  to 
accomplish  in  flying) — and  a  steady  eye. 

Swimming  and  running  will  develop  those  mus- 


14  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

cles  of  the  back  and  thigh  which  are  used  exten- 
sively in  the  pilotage  of  the  aeroplanes. 

Again,  the  sensation  of  a  horse  jumping  a  hedge 
is  exactly  similar  to  that  of  an  aeroplane  just 
getting  off  from  the  ground.  With  ski-ing,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  is  the  feeling — and,  in  fact, 
the  action — of  plunging  desperately  into  what,  at 
the  first  attempt,  appears  to  be  an  interminable 
and  awful  space.  This  is  exactly  the  feeling 
experienced  by  the  novice  in  his  first  trip  up  aloft. 
There  is  a  strong  similarity  to  ski-ing  at  the 
moment  that  the  nose  of  the  machine  is  suddenly 
put  down,  and  she  commences  to  sink  rapidly 
towards  the  earth. 

The  next  matter  to  be  taken  into  consideration 
Is  that  of  physical  peculiarities.  The  would-be 
pilot  must  be  neither  too  tall  nor  too  short.  This 
is  essentially  a  matter  to  do  with  the  steering  of 
the  aeroplane.  If  he  is  too  tall,  he  will  find  him- 
self very  cramped  in  the  confined  space  between 
the  pilot-seat  and  the  rudder-bar.  If  he  is  too 
short  he  will  discover  that  his  legs  will  not  be  long 
enough  to  reach  that  all-important  adjunct. 

Again  with  regard  to  weight,  for  preference  he 
should  be  on  the  light  side.  There  is  not  very 
much  room  in  an  aeroplane,  and,  for  reasons  with 
which  we  will  deal,  the  machine  is  only  capable 
of  lifting  up  to  a  certain  weight. 

Take  into  consideration  that  an  aeroplane  is 


JOINING  THE  SERVICE  15 

often  required  to  take  up  two  passengers,  not  to 
mention  bombs,  grenades,  spare  petrol  and  a 
machine-gun;  every  extra  pound  of  weight  is  of 
the  utmost  importance. 

His  stomach  must  be  strong,  for  with  a  weak 
stomach  he  will  be  liable  to  air-sickness. 

Further,  he  must  be  possessed  of  good  health. 
He  must  not  suffer  from  heart  trouble.  It  has 
been  proved  by  several  very  eminent  doctors  that 
the  rise  and  the  descent  through  the  various  alti- 
tudes of  the  atmosphere  effect  the  heart  greatly. 

Again,  he  must  have  good  eyesight.  This  is 
imperative,  for  the  best  part  of  his  work  will  take 
place  at  an  altitude  of  ten  thousand  feet  above  the 
earth.  The  best  age  for  an  air  pilot  is  between 
nineteen  and  twenty-four. 

The  life  of  a  pilot — that  is  to  say,  his  flying 
life — varies  from  three  to  five  years;  I  may  say 
eighteen  months  under  war  conditions.  Never 
more.  The  great  strain  on  the  nerves,  although 
not  felt  at  the  time,  begins  to  make  itself  apparent 
after  two  years  of  flying;  then  the  pilot  discovers 
that  he  is  no  longer  so  keen  on  going  up  as  he 
was,  that  he  gets  "cold  feet"  more  frequently  than 
he  was  wont  to  do  in  the  early  days,  that  he  has 
no  longer  the  nerve  to  do  the  little  tricks,  upon  the 
performance  of  which  he  formerly  prided  himself. 

A  good  air-pilot  must  be  born  so,  he  cannot  be 
made.    After  years  of  experience  a  man  may  be- 


i6  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

come  expert  in  trick  flying,  landing,  getting  off, 
etc.;  but,  however  long  and  however  diligently 
he  may  strive,  he  can  never  become  the  equal  of 
the  natural  pilot. 

Before  applying  for  a  Commission  in  either 
Service  the  aspirant  to  flying  honors  must  first 
decide  which  of  the  two  branches  he  wishes  to  take 
up.  The  two  branches,  by  the  way,  are  pilotage 
and  observation.  The  difference  between  the  two 
I  will  here  briefly  endeavor  to  explain. 

The  pilot  is  concerned  with  the  flying  of  the 
machine,  the  care  of  the  engine,  spare  parts,  etc., 
and  is  responsible  for  the  general  condition  of  the 
craft;  also  to  see  that  it  is  properly  tested  before 
each  flight. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  observer  has  a  great 
many  subjects  to  learn.  He  must  be  at  one  and 
the  same  time  wireless  expert,  gunner,  rifle-shot, 
artist,  photographer  and  map-maker.  He  must 
know  something  about  heavy  artillery. 

The  observer  in  the  Royal  Flying  Corps  is  given 
equal  rank  to  the  pilot,  but  can  only  wear  a  half- 
wing  on  his  tunic  where  the  pilot  has  full  wings. 

In  the  Royal  Naval  Air  Service  observers  are 
permitted  to  wear  the  bird  on  their  sleeve  imme- 
diately on  joining.  However,  they  are  of  different 
rank  from  the  pilot,  being  either  lieutenants  or 
sub-lieutenants,  Royal  Naval  Volunteer  Reserve. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  airman's  first  DAYS 

The  appointment  to  a  commission  in  one  of 
the  flying  services  can  be  either  temporary  or  per- 
manent. The  former  holds  good  until  the  end  of 
the  war,  the  latter  for  as  long  as  the  would-be  air- 
man wishes  to  retain  it.  For  a  period  of  from 
four  to  six  months  he  must  undergo  a  proba- 
tionary course;  If  after  that  time  he  has  served 
satisfactorily  he  will  be  confirmed  In  his  rank. 

Upon  first  joining  up  he  will  receive  a  uniform 
allowance  of  £20,  and  at  the  confirmation  a  fur- 
ther £20.  These  amounts  should  easily  cover  his 
requirements  and  enable  him  to  buy  a  complete 
flying  outfit.  During  the  probationary  period  he 
will  receive  145.  a  day  in  pay;  when  he  is  con- 
firmed in  rank,  185.  a  day  In  the  Royal  Naval  Air 
Service,  and  20J.  per  day  in  the  Royal  Flying 
Corps. 

Service  etiquette  plays  a  prominent  part  In  the 
matter  of  uniform.  In  the  military  wing  he  will 
be  expected  to  wear  the  button-over  tunic  and 

17 


1 8  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

forage  cap  of  the  Flying  Corps,  with  breeches  and 
long  brown  field-boots. 

In  the  R.N.A.S.  the  matter  of  dress  is  a  more 
difficult  and  more  delicate  one.  In  the  first  place, 
with  regard  to  the  cap,  there  are  four  entirely 
separate  badges  in  the  Naval  Service:  they  are 
(i)  the  big  silver  anchor  and  the  gold  crown  of 
the  regular  Navy;  (2)  the  smaller  replica  of  the 
Royal  Naval  Reserve;  and  of  the  Royal  Naval 
Volunteer  Reserve,  to  which  latter  branch  the 
aeroplane  observer  always  belongs ;  and  lastly  the 
silver  bird  of  the  R.N.A.S.,  worn  only  by  pilots. 

In  hosiery  the  naval  flying  man  must  confine 
his  taste  to  plain  white  shirts  \^th  collars  to 
match ;  black  ties,  and  socks  of  the  plain  black  vari- 
ety. His  shoes  must  be  unadorned  of  toecap,  and 
it  is  a  cardinal  sin  to  leave  the  buttons  of  his 
jacket  undone,  if  he  reveal  as  much  as  a  button 
of  the  waistcoat  beneath. 

There  is  an  amusing  story  told  concerning  a 
famous  English  airman  who  has  since  resigned 
from  the  R.N.A.S.  On  the  occasion  of  his  ap- 
pointment to  the  Service  he  had  to  visit  a  certain 
big  man  at  the  Admiralty,  and  arrived  there  in  the 
brass  hat  of  a  full-blown  naval  commander,  with 
a  black-and-white  striped  tie,  in  which  there  coyly 
reposed  a  large  diamond  pin. 

When  the  interview  was  over  the  big  man  called 
him  back. 


THE  AIRMAN'S  FIRST  DAYS        19 

"YouVe  forgotten  something." 

"What  is  it,  sir?"  the  airman  inquired. 

"Your  pink  shirt  and  your  purple  socks,"  was 
the  reply. 

Another  new  hand — an  Australian — presented 
himself  to  the  astonished  and  apoplectic  com- 
manding officer  of  his  first  station  wearing  a  blue 
monkey-jacket,  white  flannel  trousers,  green  socks, 
and  brown  shoes. 

Luckily  he  was  a  good-tempered  youth,  or  he 
would  never  have  been  able  to  live  down  the  sub- 
sequent ragging  he  got  from  all  the  other  members 
of  his  mess. 

Flying-clothes  must  be  the  warmest  procurable : 
a  black  or  brown  leather  coat  lined  with  lamb's 
wool,  with  trousers  to  match.  Good  flying-coats 
cost  from  three  to  five  guineas,  and  the  trousers 
range  from  a  guinea  to  thirty  shillings  in  price. 

A  khaki  balaclava  helmet,  a  wool-lined  aviation 
cap  fitting  closely  round  the  skull,  and  costing 
approximately  half-a-guinea.  A  pair  of  triplex 
glass  goggles,  price  125.  6d. — cheaper  ones  of 
ordinary  glass  can  be  obtained  as  cheap  as  35.  6d. 
— but  it  is  always  advisable  to  get  triplex,  as  in 
the  event  of  a  smash-up  ordinary  glass  would 
splinter,  fly  into  the  eyes  and  possibly  blind  one 
for  life. 

A  good  pair  of  leather  gauntlets,  large  enough 
in  size  to  permit  the  wearing  of  a  warmer  pair  of 


20  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

woolen  gloves  beneath,  and  a  gray  sweater  to 
wear  underneath  the  leather  coat  are  all  that  are 
required,  bringing  the  total  cost  to  about  £6. 

As  in  other  professions  and  walks  in  life,  a 
certain  slang  has  sprung  into  being  in  flying  circles, 
and  this  the  new  hand  will  discover  will  take  him 
a  considerable  time  to  pick  up — at  least,  with  any 
degree  of  satisfaction  or  success. 

First  he  will  discover  that  a  "quirk"  or  a 
"hun"  is  no  less  a  person  than  a  youngster  who 
aspires  to  flying  honors,  and  who  has  not  yet 
taken  his  ticket.  Even  the  aeroplanes  themselves 
have  nicknames,  as  the  "Bristol  Bullet,"  so  called 
because  of  its  peculiar  shape. 

Airships  and  balloons  are  always  referred  to — 
and  somewhat  contemptuously,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted— by  aeroplane  pilots  as  "gasbags."  The 
small,  silver-colored  airships  that  are  to  be  seen 
occasionally  floating  over  a  certain  western  suburb 
of  London  are  known  in  the  Service  as  "Babies," 
on  account  of  their  diminutive  size;  on  the  other 
hand  as  "Blimps,"  and  again  as  "S.S.'s" — sub- 
marine seekers — that  being  their  principal  duty 
when  on  active  service. 

Various  parts  of  the  machine  have  their  own 
particular  nickname,  as  the  "fuselage,"  or  body 
which  contains  the  engine,  pilot  and  observer's 
seats,  and  the  petrol  tanks.  That  wonderful 
control  lever  which  is  placed  immediately  before 


THE  AIRMAN'S  FIRST  DAYS       21 

the  pilot's  seat  in  the  fuselage,  and  which  ma- 
neuvers the  machine  both  upwards  and  down- 
wards, and  to  the  left  and  to  the  right,  or,  in  the 
terms  used  by  R.N.A.S.,  to  port  and  to  starboard, 
is  known  as  the  "joy-stick."  No  self-respecting 
pilot  will  ever  refer  to  a  trip  in  the  air  as  such,  but 
rather  as  a  "joy-ride."  A  bomb-dropping  expe- 
dition or  a  raid  he  speaks  of  as  a  "stunt." 

To  "nose-dive"  is  for  the  front  portion  of  the 
machine  to  plunge  suddenly  downwards  at  an 
angle  of  approximately  ninety  degrees  with  the 
earth.  To  "pancake,"  the  aeroplane  must  fall 
flat  to  the  earth.  It  is  possible  sometimes  to 
recover  from  a  "nose-dive,"  but  never  from  a 
"pancake."  Sometimes  in  banking — turning  in 
mid-air — a  pilot  will  overdo  the  angle  at  which  he 
turns;  the  result  is  that  the  machine  commences 
to  rotate,  and  whirls  round  like  a  humming-top; 
this,  again,  invariably  develops  into  a  "nose-dive," 
and  is  known  as  a  "spin." 

The  majority  of  pilots,  when  first  starting  off, 
run  their  machines  some  distance  across  the  aero- 
drome, then  rise  gradually  at  an  angle  of  about 
fifteen  degrees  with  the  earth;  others,  on  the  other 
hand,  prefer  to  run  their  machine  a  considerably 
greater  distance  across  the  ground,  and,  thus  at- 
taining a  much  greater  speed,  to  rise  almost  verti- 
cally for  about  two  hundred  feet,  then  to  flatten 


22  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

out  and  bring  the  machine  level:  this  trick  is 
known  as  "zumming." 

To  "switchback"  is  to  fly  up  and  down,  up 
and  down,  as  the  name  implies. 

Immediately  after  leaving  the  ground  the  aero- 
plane invariably  commences  to  plunge  and  to  dive 
like  a  ship  in  a  stormy  sea — this  is  when  it  enters 
a  patch  of  rarefied  air  known  as  a  "bump";  this 
latter  often  causes  the  machine  to  drop  suddenly, 
and  drops  of  as  much  as  two  hundred  feet  at  a 
time  have  been  recorded. 

No  airman  is  capable  of  talking  through  his  hat 
— at  least,  not  literally,  for  he  does  not  possess 
such  a  thing,  that  article  of  his  attire  always  be- 
ing referred  to  as  a  "gadget." 

To  have  "cold  feet"  in  the  air  Is  to  have  a  bad 
attack  of  nerves  or  funk.  One  day  at  Hendon, 
before  the  war,  a  well-meaning  but  somewhat 
dense  journalist  attached  to  a  big  London  daily 
was  told  Hamel  was  suffering  from  "cold  feet." 

Imagining  that  "cold  feet"  meant  some  ailment 
of  the  feet,  like  chilblains,  and  solicitous  for  his 
welfare,  this  enterprising  individual  approached 
the  famous  airman  immediately  after  his  descent 
from  a  trip  up  above. 

"Excuse  me  asking,  but  is  it  true  that  you  suffer 
from  cold  feet,  Mr.  Hamel?"  he  asked. 

Hamel's  reply  is  not  recorded. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  INITIAL  FLIGHT 

Once  in  the  Service,  the  R.N.A  S.  man  may  be 
selected  for  one  of  three  branches  of  flying,  name- 
ly, seaplane,  aeroplane — which,  incidentally,  is 
far  preferable  to  any  other  branch,  and  holds 
forth  more  opportunities  of  active  service — and 
kite  balloon,  probably  the  safest  and  most 
comfortable  job  of  the  war,  but  dull — deadly 
dull. 

For  the  sake  of  those  of  my  readers  who  do  not 
know  of  the  captive  kite-balloon,  I  will  here  briefly 
explain.  It  is  a  queer  sausage-shaped  craft,  that 
is  tethered  to  a  steam-winch  on  the  ground  some- 
where beneath  it  by  means  of  a  stout  steel  cable. 
Usually  situated  some  five  or  six  miles  behind  the 
firing-line,  the  basket  of  the  balloon  will  only  hold 
two  observers  at  one  time.  It  is  connected  to  the 
big  guns  by  telephone,  and  is  useful  for  the  direc- 
tion of  artillery  fire,  which  it  does  by  telling  the 
men  at  the  guns  whether  their  shells  are  falling 
over,  under,  or  to  the  left  or  right  of  the  target 
that  they  are  aiming  at. 

The  first  day  in  the  life  of  the  "new  hand"  at 
23 


24  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

the  Service  school  is  not  always  the  pleasantest  of 
memories.  He  discovers  that,  from  a  man  of 
parts,  he  has  suddenly  been  converted  into  a  very 
junior  sub,  and  is  at  the  beck  and  call  of  every 
member  of  the  mess,  with  as  much  or  more  gold 
braid  on  the  sleeve  of  their  uniform. 

For  the  first  few  days  he  is  allowed  to  wander 
round  at  his  own  sweet  will,  in  order  to  get  the 
hang  of  things.  To  him  the  matter  of  greatest 
importance  are  the  machines,  for  very  often  he  has 
never  even  seen  an  aeroplane  at  close  quarters,  and 
should  he  be  foolish  enough  to  ask  absurd  ques- 
tions, he  will  always  find  some  one  ready  with  a 
fitting  answer. 

He  will  be  told  wondrous  stories  of  the  time  the 
machines  will  remain  in  the  air,  the  breakneck 
speed  at  which  they  will  travel,  and  of  the  enor- 
mous height  to  which  they  will  climb. 

The  next  most  important  thing  to  the  actual 
flying  is  a  thorough  knowledge  of  wireless  teleg- 
raphy, for  without  a  wireless  instrument  on  board 
an  aeroplane  is  little  better  than  useless  to  the 
army  in  the  field;  and,  having  got  the  wireless  set 
on  board,  the  pilot  or  the  observer — whosesoever 
duty  it  is — must  be  able  to  send  messages,  clearly 
and  distinctly,  on  the  Morse  key. 

A  good  tip  to  the  youngster  thinking  of  taking 
up  flying  for  a  profession  is  to  buy  a  copy  of  the 
Morse  code,  and  learn  it  off  by  heart    Then  to 


THE  INITIAL  FLIGHT  25 

get  a  "buzzer"  or  a  Morse  key  (both  of  which 
can  be  obtained  for  the  sum  of  55.  6d.) ,  and  to 
teach  himself  to  read  by  sound. 

In  Service  circles  the  dot  and  the  dash  of  the 
Morse  code  are  known  as  "Iddy"  and  "umpty," 
respectively.  It  is  a  simple  matter  to  learn  to 
send  and  to  receive  wireless  signals;  but  to  know 
how  to  erect  and  dismantle  a  wireless  set,  and  to 
have  a  sound  knowledge  of  the  theory  and  the 
working  of  the  thing,  and  to  be  able  to  take  to 
pieces  or  to  repair  at  a  moment's  notice,  any 
portion  of  the  instrument  that  may  get  out  of 
order,  is  a  more  difficult  matter. 

That  requires  several  months  to  acquire,  but  the 
"Quirk"  will  be  given  a  useful,  though  somewhat 
"short,"  course  under  an  expert  wireless  operator 
before  he  is  expected  to  know  these  things. 

At  last  the  great  day  arrives  when  he  goes  for 
his  first  trip  up  aloft.  After  donning  a  leather 
coat,  and  trousers  to  match,  a  skull  cap  and  gog- 
gles, he  is  ready  for  the  fray,  and  sits  himself 
gingerly  beside  what  at  the  first  seems  to  him  to 
be  a  particularly  violent  and  a  particularly  ill- 
disposed  individual  with  a  simple  wonderful  flow 
of  language,  an  instructor  in  a  "box-kite."  Then 
the  engine  is  set  going. 

The  instructor  bawls  some  remark  into  his  ear, 
which,  for  the  life  of  him,  he  cannot  catch.  A 
long  and  rapid  journey  across  the  bumpy  ground. 


26  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

a  weird  sensation  of  rising  into  space  and  he  is 
up  in  the  air  at  last.  Then  the  machine  gets  into 
the  "bumps" ;  she  dips,  and  drops,  and  sways,  first 
to  one  side  and  then  to  the  other,  until  the  poor 
unfortunate  individual  begins  to  wonder  if  he  will 
ever  get  safely  to  the  ground  again. 

There  is  a  pandemonium  of  noise.  The  wind 
rushes  by  his  face  at  an  alarming  rate.  He  feels 
himself  perspiring  all  over,  and  particularly  in  the 
palms  of  his  hands.  He  grips  the  nearest  avail- 
able object,  as  a  drowning  man  would  clutch  at  a 
straw.  With  every  fresh  plunge  and  dip  he  in- 
creases that  grip. 

The  instructor  shouts  at  him  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  but  he  hears  nothing;  only  the  racing  engine 
and  the  whistle  of  the  wind.  And  then  for  the 
first  time  he  ventures  to  look  over  the  side.  Could 
that  curiously-scattered  collection  of  pigmy  build- 
ings, long,  ribbon-like  roads,  and  distant,  narrow, 
gleaming  line  of  railway  line  be  the  earth? 

He  decides  that  it  is,  and  is  at  last  beginning  to 
feel  comfortable,  when  the  machine  begins  to  heel 
over  violently;  It  is  the  worst  shock  that  he  has  yet 
had.  He  grips  with  both  hands  as  tight  as  he  is 
able,  shuts  his  eyes,  and  waits  for  the  worst.  By 
the  time  his  eyes  are  open  again  the  machine — ^by 
what  seems  to  him  to  have  been  a  miracle — has 
righted  Itself  and  is  flying  smoothly  through  the 


THE  INITIAL  FLIGHT  27 

air.  Never  before  has  the  world  appeared  so 
beautiful  nor  so  diminutive  in  size. 

For  another  five  minutes  or  so  the  instructor 
flies  to  and  fro  above  the  aerodrome,  then  down 
goes  the  machine,  much  to  the  astonishment  and 
alarm  of  the  bewildered  "quirk,"  who  suddenly 
finds  the  earth  rushing  up  to  meet  him.  How  he 
fears  that  moment  when  a  landing  must  be  made, 
and  how  relieved  he  feels  when  he  realizes  there 
is  nothing  in  it  in  the  least  degree  terrifying. 

Very  gently  the  aeroplane  skims  on  to  the  land- 
ing-ground, like  a  seagull  lighting  in  the  crest  of 
a  wave,  and  all  is  over;  he  is  safe  back  again  on 
Mother  Earth.  Silent  and  subdued,  he  clambers 
out  of  the  aeroplane.  How  did  he  enjoy  it? 
"Very  much  indeed,"  he  answers  in  a  husky  whis- 
per, and  the  instructor  turns  his  head  away  and 
smiles.    He  has  taken  "quirks"  up  before. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  PERILS  OF  THE  AIR 

For  the  first  few  trips  up  aloft  the  beginner  is 
always  accompanied  by  an  instructor.  First  he  is 
taken  up  as  a  passenger,  and  his  only  duty  is  to  sit 
in  the  observer's  seat  and  do  nothing.  Then 
gradually  he  is  allowed  to  fly  the  machine  himself. 
This  he  does  in  a  double-control — that  Is  to  say, 
an  aeroplane  with  two  sets  of  controls,  one  of 
which  the  instructor  makes  use  of  and  the  other  is 
in  his  own  hands. 

He  is  taught  that  every  movement  of  the  control 
must  be  slow  and  gentle,  otherwise  the  machine 
is  sure  to  lose  its  stability — balance — and  go  crash- 
ing to  the  ground  below;  that  an  inch  too  much 
with  the  rudder-bar  will  invariably  mean  a  "spin," 
or  a  too  jerky  movement  on  the  control-bar  a 
**pancake"  or  a  "nose-dive." 

Getting  off  from  the  ground  is  a  comparatively 
simple  matter;  but  the  moment  of  first  entering  the 
air  is  the  most  dangerous  and  trying  of  all.  Should 
the  engine  fail,  the  chances  are  a  hundred  to  one 
that  the  machine  will  crash  into  a  hedge,  or  a  tree, 

28 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  AIR  29 

or  land  in  a  valley.  The  "bumps"  are  most  fre- 
quent over  houses  and  buildings,  and  particularly 
so  on  a  dull  morning,  when  the  sun  is  breaking 
through  the  clouds,  which  send  the  craft  plunging 
and  tossing  In  all  directions.  This  is  the  test  that 
will  show  if  a  man  is  a  good  pilot  or  no. 

Once  clear  of  the  "bumps,"  the  first  thing  to 
be  done  is  to  get  "height."  With  a  ship  at  sea 
the  safest  sailing  Is  In  mid-ocean,  far  from  the 
land.  In  a  similar  manner,  the  greater  the  alti- 
tude the  safer  Is  the  flying. 

When  near  the  ground,  the  air-pilot  has  very 
little  choice  In  landing-places  and  very  little  time 
to  prepare  for  a  landing.  The  higher  up  he  Is, 
the  greater  range  of  country  he  has  to  choose 
from,  and  the  more  time  he  has  to  regain  control 
of  his  machine. 

At  a  rough  estimate,  one  may  say  that  at  a 
height  of  500  feet  he  has  only  an  area  of  a  square 
half-mile  to  land  In;  at  1000  a  mile;  2000  two 
miles;  5000  five  miles;  10,000  ten  miles,  and  so 
forth.  Some  few  months  ago  a  pilot  at  Brook- 
lands  flew  up  to  a  height  of  about  15,000  feet, 
shut  his  engine  dead  off,  and  glided  down  Into 
Hendon  aerodrome  a  distance  of  just  over  twenty 
miles. 

Having  got  clear  of  the  "bumps,"  the  next 
danger  Is  the  clouds,  which  have  a  very  strange 
effect  on  the  stability  of  the  craft.     They  should 


30  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

always  be  avoided  when  possible.  Fog  is  a  very 
terrible  element  to  encounter  in  mid-air,  and  the 
sensation  of  being  fog-bound  is  the  worst  that  the 
human  brain  can  conceive.  Nothing  in  sight,  with 
the  blinding  fog  on  either  side,  and  not  knowing 
any  moment  that  he  will  not  be  colliding  with  some 
high  points  of  the  earth,  the  air-pilot  positively 
dreads  the  fog. 

The  writer  remembers  well  the  case  of  an  air- 
man fog-bound  last  winter  at  an  aerodrome  near 
London.  For  two  hours  he  was  flying  up  and 
down,  up  and  down,  over  the  aerodrome,  without 
being  able  to  find  it.  The  spectators  on  the 
ground  could  hear  the  hum  of  his  engine  distinctly, 
but  could  not  see  him,  and  neither  could  he  see 
them.  Eventually,  with  the  aid  of  landing-flares 
and  Verey's  lights,  he  was  able  to  land;  but  for 
weeks  afterwards  was  a  nervous  wreck,  and  could 
not  fly  again  for  nearly  a  month. 

After  several  trips  with  the  instructor,  and  hav- 
ing satisfied  that  individual  that  he  has  gained 
suflicient  knowledge  of  flying,  the  "quirk"  is  al- 
lowed to  take  up  a  machine  by  himself. 

At  first  he  flies  it  up  and  down,  over  the  aero- 
drome, then  gradually  gets  on  to  left  and  right 
hand  turns,  and  then  to  landing  the  machine. 

Now,  landing  is  the  most  difficult  feat  of  all  in 
flying;  it  requires  both  good  judgment  and  good 
nerves.     Before  landing  the  pilot  must  discover 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  AIR  31 

the  direction  of  the  prevailing  wind.  This  he  can 
do  by  watching  the  smoke  of  a  high  chimney,  or 
of  the  locomotive  of  a  railway  train.  Having  dis- 
covered the  direction  of  the  wind,  he  must  land 
dead  against  it,  otherwise  the  machine  will  be 
caught  in  a  sudden  gust  and  toppled  over. 

For  a  day  or  two  he  will  be  kept  on  "landing" 
practice,  and  then  he  will  be  allowed  to  try  for  the 
Royal  Aero  Club  aeroplane  certificate.  The  tests 
and  conditions  for  this  are  as  follows :  The  candi- 
date must  be  over  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  of 
British  nationality;  he  must  accomplish  the  three 
following  tests,  each  being  a  separate  flight — 

A  and  B. — ^Two  distance  flights,  consisting  of 
at  least  five  kilometres  (three  miles,  185  yards) 
each  in  a  closed  circuit. 

C. — One  altitude  flight,  during  which  a  height 
of  at  least  100  metres  (328  feet)  above  the  point 
of  departure  must  be  attained,  the  descent  to  be 
made  from  that  height  with  the  motor  cut  off. 
The  landing  must  be  made  in  view  of  the  ob- 
servers, without  re-starting  the  motor.  The  can- 
didate must  be  alone  in  the  aircraft  during  the 
three  tests. 

Starting  from  and  alighting  on  the  water  is  only 
permitted  in  one  of  the  tests,  A  and  B.  The 
course  on  which  the  aviator  accomplishes  tests  A 
and  B  must  be  marked  out  by  two  posts  or  buoys, 
situated  not  more  than  500  metres  (547  yards) 


32  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

apart.  The  turns  round  the  posts  or  buoys  must 
be  made  alternately  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  so 
that  the  flight  will  consist  of  an  uninterrupted 
series  of  figures  of  8. 

The  distance  flown  shall  be  reckoned  as  if  in  a 
straight  line  between  the  two  posts  or  buoys.  The 
alighting  after  the  two  distance  flights  in  tests  A 
and  B  shall  be  made  (a)  by  stopping  the  motor  at 
or  before  the  moment  of  touching  the  ground  or 
water;  (b)  by  bringing  the  aircraft  to  rest  not 
more  than  50  metres  (164  feet)  from  a  point  in- 
dicated previously  by  the  candidate. 

The  decision  of  the  committee  of  the  Royal 
Aero  Club  in  all  matters  connected  with  the  test 
is  final,  and  without  appeal. 

The  certificate  itself,  which  is  a  handsome, 
leather-bound  affair,  in  the  shape  of  a  pocket-book, 
can  be  obtained  by  sending  along  the  certificate 
of  the  flights  accomplished,  together  with  £1  15., 
a  photograph  of  the  applicant,  particulars  as  to 
birth,  etc.,  to  the  Secretary,  Royal  Aero  Club,  166 
Piccadilly,  London,  W. 

His  "ticket"  having  been  obtained,  the 
"quirk" — who,  incidentally,  is  now  a  "quirk" 
no  longer — is  given  a  little  more  practice  in  flying 
slow  machines,  in  order  to  gain  confidence,  and  is 
then  sent  on  to  his  first  war  station  to  learn  to  fly 
the  faster  battle-planes  and  war  machines,  and  at 
the  same  time  is  confirmed  in  his  rank. 


THE  PERILS  OF  THE  AIR         33 

Even  now  his  flying  education  Is  by  no  means 
finished.  After  learning  to  fly  the  faster  machines, 
he  will  be  put  through  a  course  of  bomb-dropping. 
After  that  a  spell  of  cross-country  work  will  oc- 
cupy his  time;  learning  to  fly  from  above  by  the 
position  of  landmarks,  roads,  rivers,  railways,  etc. 

After  this  he  learns  to  steer  a  course  by  com- 
pass, gets  practice  in  machine-gun  firing  and  dis- 
sembling while  in  mid-air,  and  then  he  is  ready  at 
last  for  the  great  adventure  across  the  water.  One 
fine  morning  he  will  set  out  on  a  brand-new  war- 
machine  for  somewhere  in  the  north  of  France. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AIR 

The  great  war  has  brought  In  its  trail  horrors 
Innumerable,  but,  as  If  in  compensation,  has 
brought  to  light  all  that  is  best  in  our  men. 

The  heroism  and  courage  of  the  airmen  were 
without  precedent,  but  none  the  less  admirable. 
Those  stripling  pilots  of  the  air  that  flew  un- 
daunted over  shell-fire  in  all  weathers  and  at  all 
times  have  opened  up  a  chapter  In  our  history  that 
nothing  can  rival. 

Who  can  define  the  psychology  of  these  young 
men  who  can  meet  death  as  an  old  acquaintance 
and  pass  him,  mocking,  by — who  laugh  at  fear, 
and  make  a  jest  of  danger?  Is  it  that  they  are 
without  nerve  entirely,  or  is  It  rather  a  pose,  a 
lovable  bravado  that  hides  their  true  feelings?  Is 
it  that  they  are  rather  less  devoid  of  fear  than 
their  brothers  in  the  trenches  ?  Hardly.  We  have 
known  them,  you  and  I,  reader,  in  the  last  few 
years,  but  under  a  different  guise — as  happy, 
laughing  schoolboys,  as  young  men  plunging  into 
life,  the  "flanneled  fools  and  muddled  oafs"  of 

34 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AIR  35 

Britain,  and  suddenly  they  have  become  men, 
ready  and  eager  to  share  a  man's  burdens  and 
responsibilities,  yet  no  whit  altered;  but  deadly 
in  earnest  when  there  is  work  to  be  done  on  the 
other  side. 

Undoubtedly  the  air  does  affect  a  man  to  a 
degree,  and  endows  him  with  that  strange  malady, 
flying  temperament,  that  makes  him  reckless,  and, 
to  a  certain  extent,  headstrong;  occasionally  to  get 
out  of  hand,  and  to  find  rules  and  discipline  chaf- 
ing and  irksome.  But  then  the  air  has  a  call  of 
its  own  that  few  can  resist;  that  runs  through  a 
man's  veins  like  flame,  and  whispers  courage  and 
defiance  into  his  ear,  that  invites  his  sympathy,  his 
love,  his  esteem.  But  the  air  is  a  fickle  mistress, 
and  woe  betide  he  who  dares  to  slight  her  or 
make  free  at  her  expense ;  he  must  pay  the  penalty, 
and  that  penalty  is — death. 

Every  known  sensation  is  experienced  in  flying: 
joy — the  joy  of  youth  astride  the  dull  old  world, 
accomplishing  what  previous  generations  dared 
not  to  attempt;  excitement,  to  feel  the  cool  air 
brushing  one's  cheek,  and  whistling  past  one's 
ears;  fear,  danger,  hope  and  despair;  all  are 
crowded  into  this  one  brief  hour  of  life. 

Day  after  day,  in  all  kinds  of  weather,  the  air- 
man must  go  up,  for  the  battle  seldom  slackens 
and  never  pauses  on  the  earth  beneath.  One  day 
reconnoitering — that  is,  making  a  long  flight  over 


36  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

the  enemy's  country  under  a  continual  bombard- 
ment from  the  Hun  anti-aircraft  guns,  noting  any 
fresh  movements  of  enemy  troops,  gun  emplace- 
ments, headquarters,  supply  depots,  ammunition 
columns,  or  any  unusual  activity  on  his  roads  or 
railways.  Another  day  taking  part  in  a  bombing 
raid  on  some  distant  military  center,  or  perhaps 
out  fighting  enemy  aircraft;  but  always  taking 
his  life  in  his  hands,  and  never  knowing  each 
morning  as  he  sets  out  whether  he  will  return 
again. 

It  is  the  proud  and  honest  boast  of  the  British 
Air  Services  that  they  never  advertise;  and  what 
we  lack  in  that  respect,  our  enemy  make  up  for. 
We  have  our  Immelmanns  and  our  Boelkes,  but 
their  identities  are  hidden  under  the  simple  pseu- 
donyms   of   Lieutenant   X and   Lieutenant 

Y .    They  perform  their  daring  feats,  not  for 

their  own  vainglory,  not  for  the  sake  of  decora- 
tions, but  from  keen  sense  of  duty,  love  of  their 
work,  and  for  the  further  honor  of  the  famous 
corps  of  which  they  are  units.  It  is  this  policy  of 
eternal  silence  that  has  so  completely  shattered  the 
moral  of  the  German  airmen  in  Flanders,  and 
driven  them  almost  entirely  from  the  air. 

In  many  ways  the  air  is  own  cousin  to  the  sea, 
for  there  is  a  chivalry  of  the  sea  which  has  been  a 
tradition  for  tens  of  centuries:  a  freemasonry  of 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AIR  37 

good  feeling  and  sportsmanship  among  those  who 
have  their  business  in  great  waters. 

The  chivalry  of  the  air  is  none  the  less  real 
because  it  has  no  traditions  to  fall  back  upon. 
Nature  herself  has  made  the  man  of  the  sea  and 
the  man  of  the  air  sportsmen  alilce ;  has  given  them 
an  instinct  for  "doing  the  right  thing." 

The  Air  Service  has,  in  addition,  a  quality  ex- 
clusively its  own ;  I  mean  its  youth.  It  is  just  like  a 
healthy  schoolboy.  Intensely  alive,  active,  happy- 
go-lucky,  yet  ingenious  enough  where  matters  of 
technic  are  concerned,  and  always  eager  to  be  out 
for  adventure. 

But  it  is  just  these  tremendous  dangers  which 
are  the  breath  of  life  to  this  splendid  schoolboy 
(even  in  age  he  is  often  little  more).  There  is  a 
sporting  touch  in  this  ceaseless  duel  with  fate,  in 
this  juggling  with  life  and  death.  That  touch  is 
transmitted  to  the  less  figurative  duels  when  there 
is  a  tussle  in  mid-air  with  a  flying  Hun,  when  it 
is  his  life  or  yours. 

On  second  thought  I  withdraw  that  word  Hun 
in  relation  to  the  German  airman;  I  continue  to 
apply  it  with  all  the  vehemence  I  can  muster  to  the 
crews  of  a  baby-killer  Zeppelin,  but  one's  adver- 
sary in  Albatross  or  Halberstadt  is  an  adversary 
worthy  of  the  name.  Here,  almost  alone  in  all 
phases  of  modern  warfare,  remains  the  personal 
touch.     Up  there  in  the  awful  solitude  of  space 


38  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

two  human  beings  pit  their  brains  and  courage  one 
against  the  other,  with  death  each  moment  before 
the  eyes  of  both.  It  is  a  strange  turn  of  things 
that  the  latest  development  of  modern  science  has 
brought  about  a  revival  of  medieval  chivalry,  the 
single  combat. 

I  have  mentioned  the  freemasonry  of  the  air. 
Any  airman  who  has  seen  any  fighting  could  give 
you  countless  instances  of  it.  Your  German  air- 
man treats  you  as  an  honorable  foe,  and  you  treat 
him  as  one.  That  constantly  recurring  phrase, 
"An  aeroplane  was  forced  to  descend  and  its  two 
occupants  taken  prisoners,"  means  that  those  pris- 
oners, whether  Germans  or  English,  were  treated 
honorably,  even  ceremoniously.  A  wounded  avia- 
tor landing  in  the  enemy's  lines  is  lifted  from  his 
seat  with  every  care,  and  Is  almost  invariably 
saluted.  I  have  known  on  five  separate  occasions 
airmen  fly  over  the  enemy  simply  to  drop  the  per- 
sonal belongings  and  effects  of  the  men  whom.  In 
a  terrific  mid-air  struggle,  they  have  succeeded  In 
sending  crashing  to  earth  and  death.  German  air- 
men have  done  the  same,  and  seen  to  it  that  his 
comrades  should  receive  the  cigarette  case  or 
bundle  of  personal  papers  of  a  fallen  foe. 

One  of  the  most  dramatic  incidents  of  this  drab 
war  was  the  dropping  of  a  wreath  from  an  English 
aeroplane  In  honor  of  the  dead  hero  of  the  Ger- 
man Air  Service,  Immelmann. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  THE  AIR  39 

An  airman  likes  an  opponent  worthy  of  his 
mettle;  he  likes  even  chances  and  the  prospect  of  a 
good  fight.  I  shall  always  remember  the  disgust 
at  a  certain  war  aerodrome  recently.  The  ap- 
proach of  a  Zepp  had  been  reported,  and  all  was 
excitement.  Aeroplanes  were  dragged  from  their 
hangars,  and  off  they  went  at  lightning  speed. 
Soon  the  return.  Disgust  was  on  every  one's  face. 
"We  thought  there  was  going  to  be  some  real 
fun,"  was  the  general  grumble.  "Zepp?  Not  a 
bit  of  It;  only  a  sausage  balloon." 

Danger  the  airman  shares  with  the  soldier  In 
the  trenches.  Many  a  tale  could  be  told  of  the 
awful  deaths,  of  roasting  when  the  machine  catches 
fire,  of  hours  of  agony  with  a  shattered  leg  or  arm 
when,  at  all  costs,  the  machine  must  be  piloted  to 
safety  and  a  life  (that  of  the  observer)  saved. 
But  such  things  are  the  lot  of  most  men  who  fight. 
It  Is  the  cheery  sportsmanship,  the  good  fellow- 
ship, the  national  Instinct  to  fight  and  behave  like 
a  gentleman,  that  have  become  characteristics  of 
airmen  of  all  nations,  which  I  have  tried  to  em- 
phasize. 

Such  Is  "playing  the  game"  In  the  Air  Service. 
Often  it  is  a  cheery  life,  but  it  is  always  a  trying 
one. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SEAPLANES 

The  seaplane,  as  its  name  implies,  is  used  solely 
for  flying  over  tracts  of  water.  It  is  identical  In 
shape  with  the  aeroplane,  but  with  minor  varia- 
tions. It  Is  considerably  heavier  than  the  aero- 
plane in  weight,  and  Is  more  of  the  formation  of 
the  boat,  though  following  the  same  "streamline" 
principles  as  the  aeroplane. 

The  engine-power  varies  from  70  to  150  horse- 
power, but  the  machine  is  much  slower  In  transit 
and  in  climbing  even  than  several  of  the  lesser 
horse-power  land  machines.  The  fuselage,  or 
body,  is  like  a  flat-bottomed  boat,  in  the  bows  of 
which  are  the  engine  and  the  propeller.  Immedi- 
ately In  the  rear  of  the  engine  are  the  pilot's  and 
observer's  seats,  side  by  side,  and  not,  as  In  the 
aeroplane,  the  one  behind  the  other.  Again,  In 
place  of  the  wheels  of  the  landing  chassis  of  the 
aeroplane  are  two  boat-shaped  floats;  these  are 
hollow  In  formation,  very  heavy,  and  extremely 
fragile.  When  landing  the  seaplane  on  a  rough 
sea,  the  part  of  the  machine  most  liable  to  break 
up  is  the  float. 

40 


SEAPLANES  41 

With  regard  to  the  actual  flying  of  the  craft, 
where  a  mere  touch  of  the  control  is  capable  of 
maneuvering  the  aeroplane  up  from  the  ground,  it 
requires  the  grip  of  a  Sandow's  developer  to  lift 
a  heavy  seaplane  off  the  surface  of  the  sea.  Sim- 
ilarly, while  maneuvering  in  the  air,  the  move- 
ments must  always  be  of  the  gentlest  nature,  con- 
siderable muscular  force  is  required  to  bank 
(turn)  and  climb  the  seaplane. 

Landing  Is  the  most  difficult  and  delicate  ma- 
neuver in  flying;  it  is  a  tricky  performance  to  land 
an  aeroplane,  but  It  Is  doubly  so  to  land  a  sea- 
plane. Should  the  surface  of  the  sea  be  the  least 
bit  choppy  or  rough,  there  is  a  grave  risk  of  the 
floats  breaking  open,  and  the  machine  turning 
turtle,  or  diving  down  through  the  sea  and  pre- 
cipitating the  pilot  to  a  watery  grave. 

Work  of  the  Seaplane 

The  work  of  the  seaplane  may  be  placed  in  two 
categories:  first,  work  from  the  shore,  when  a 
landing-station,  bordering  on  the  sea,  is  used  as  a 
base;  and,  secondly,  flying  at  sea,  when  the  craft 
is  taken  out  on  board  a  parent  vessel,  and  flights 
are  commenced  from  the  middle  of  the  ocean. 
With  regard  to  the  former,  the  work  is  for  the 
most  part  of  a  defensive  nature,  as  that  of  driving 
off  invading  enemy  craft,  and  patrollng  the  coasts 


4Z  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

for  enemy  submarines.  The  work  at  sea  is  prin- 
cipally scouting  for  fleets,  for  a  seaplane  observer, 
at  an  altitude  of  5000  feet,  has  a  range  of  view 
ten  times  greater  than  the  look-out  man  of  any 
battleship  or  cruiser. 

In  this  latter  case,  flights  are  usually  terminated 
and  commenced  from  the  sea  surface,  alongside 
the  parent  ship;  and  when  the  craft  are  no  longer 
in  use  they  are  lifted  on  board  by  means  of  a  large 
crane  and  stowed  away  on  a  specially  constructed 
deck. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  interest,  aeroplane 
work  is  preferable  to  that  of  the  seaplane.  Noth- 
ing more  boring  and  dreary  can  be  imagined  than 
a  long  flight  over  an  interminable  stretch  of  blue 
water;  the  aeroplane  pilot  does,  at  least,  have  an 
everchanging  contour  of  hills  and  valleys,  rivers 
and  woods,  towns  and  villages  beneath  him, 
whereas  the  seaplane  man's  view  is  confined  to 
sea,  sky  and  horizon,  with  perhaps  an  occasional 
passing  ship. 

One  seaplane  pilot  of  my  acquaintance,  in  order 
to  relieve  the  monotony,  always  took  his  dog,  a 
staid  and  wise-looking  Scotch  terrier,  with  him. 
That  dog  can  lay  claim  to  holding  the  record 
among  dogs  of  the  world,  for  he  has  now  flown 
considerably  over  2000  miles.  His  method  of 
aviation  is  peculiarly  his  own,  for,  once  the  ma- 
chine has  started  and  got  under  way,  he  curls  him- 


SEAPLANES  43 

self  up  in  the  body  of  the  fuselage  and  goes  into 
a  sound  sleep,  from  which  he  does  not  wake  until 
the  engine  stops  again. 

Seaplane  flying  in  these  days  is  beset  with  dan- 
gers of  many  kinds. 

As  an  example,  I  will  attempt  to  portray  the 
average  day's  work  of  a  seaplane  pilot  on  active 
service,  somewhere  in  the  North  Sea. 

A  scene  of  unusual  activity  is  revealed  by  the 
breaking  dawn,  lat.  "X,"  long.  "Y."  The  sea  is 
calm,  the  rising  sun  giving  it  that  peculiar  grayish- 
green  tint,  over  which  the  early  morning  mist 
hangs  like  a  pall.  Through  the  mist  can  be  seen 
the  hazy,  blurred  outlines  of  the  Fleet:  squat, 
lumpy  monitors,  slim  and  graceful  cruisers,  sharp- 
nosed  destroyers,  submarines  that  hang,  as  it  were, 
on  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  Great  towering 
battleships,  dignified  and  stately,  look  down  upon 
the  smaller  fry  with  apparent  disdain.  Far  in  the 
rear  there  is  what  at  first  appears  to  be  an  ordi- 
nary smug-funneled  tramp  steamer;  but  a  glimpse 
of  the  huge  crane  and  queer,  elongated  shapes 
along  her  decks  reveals  the  seaplane  carrier. 

Four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Though  it  is  sum- 
mer, the  weather  is  cold  and  raw,  the  chilly  breeze 
bites  knife-like  through  one's  clothes,  fingers  are 
all  thumbs — rather  a  disillusion  of  the  joys  of  fly- 
ing. The  engine  stops,  and  coughs  and  splutters 
as  if  in  protest  at  this  extraordinary  behavior. 


44  THE  WAt  OK  THE  Am 

Compass,  maps,  instruments  are  missing;  the 
petrol  tanks  are  unfilled,  or  the  oil  has  been  for- 
gotten. 

At  last,  creaking  and  groaning,  the  crane  is  low- 
ered, and  fixed  to  the  craft.  A  few  hoarse  com- 
mands, and  she  is  swung  off  the  deck  and  dropped 
gently  on  to  the  sea,  and  off  she  goes,  bound  on  a 
reconnaissance  trip  or  target-registering.  First 
taxi-ing  far  across  the  open  sea,  clear  of  the  Fleet. 
What  a  delightful  sensation  this  is,  skimming  the 
water  like  a  seagull,  dipping  and  bowing  grace- 
fully; but  it  is  quite  another  story  when  the  sea  is 
rough,  and  the  swell  threatens  every  moment  to 
break  up  the  floats  and  submerge  the  craft.  At 
last  up  into  the  air,  200,  300,  500,  1000  feet, 
circling  round  the  now,  seemingly,  stationary 
Fleet;  how  still  and  quiet  they  appear  down  below 
there  I 

The  seaplane  is  usually  a  much  slower  craft  to 
climb  than  the  aeroplane,  and  some  time  elapses 
before  a  decent  altitude  is  reached.  The  observer 
busies  himself  plotting  out  the  course,  testing  the 
wireless  gear,  and  preparing  his  report. 

Scouting  is  the  object  of  the  flight,  and  scouting 
implies,  for  the  most  part,  keeping  a  weather  eye 
open  for  suspicious  craft,  enemy  battleships, 
cruisers,  destroyers  and  enemy  submarines,  the  lat- 
ter more  easily  distinguishable  from  a  height, 
when  the  bed  of  the  sea  in  the  more  shallow  por- 


SEAPLANES  45 

tlons  can  be  read  like  an  open  book,  sandbanks 
standing  out  most  prominently  from  the  surround- 
ing azure  blue. 

Target-registering,  on  the  other  hand,  consists 
of  following,  or  rather  attempting  to  follow,  a 
damnably  perverse  raft,  on  which  a  large  target  is 
lashed,  at  which  the  heavy  guns  of  the  Fleet  are 
firing  from  a  distance  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
miles,  and  the  observer  wirelessing  back  the  re- 
sults of  their  attempts,  also  entering  the  same  in 
his  report. 

To  the  uninitiated  this  report  would  at  first 
sight  appear  slightly  less  understandable  than  a 
Chinese  love  letter  or  a  Greek  play.  It  is  divided 
into  columns;  first  there  is  the  time  of  the  entry, 
next  the  height  at  which  the  machine  was  flying, 
the  approximate  position,  and,  last,  the  nature  of 
the  observation.  For  example:  11.55  ^•"^-  6000 
feet.  Lat.  90,  long.  70:6.  Large  two-funneled 
steamers,  apparently  merchantmen,  observed  pro- 
ceeding in  a  south-westerly  direction. 

If  the  matter  is  of  an  urgent  nature  it  is  sent 
back  to  the  Fleet  immediately  by  wireless,  surely 
the  most  valuable  asset  to  aviation  that  exists,  and 
without  which  aerial  scouting  and  reconnaissance 
work  would  be  almost  useless.  The  apparatus  is 
light  and  extremely  compact,  consisting  of  one  or 
two  Morse  keys  and  an  aerial.  The  range  of  ac- 
tion— that  is  to  say,  the  distance  that  a  message 


46  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

can  be  either  sent  or  received — is  not  very  great, 
but  such  as  it  is,  is  invaluable.  In  a  word,  wireless 
in  the  Navy  is  as  near  perfection  as  it  is  possible 
for  a  new  science  to  be. 

The  observer  makes  a  sudden  movement  with 
his  hand  in  a  south-westerly  direction.  Far  down 
on  the  distant  horizon  is  the  long  black  sleuth-like 
form  of  an  enemy  destroyer.  The  wireless  is  soon 
busy  ticking  the  gladsome  news  to  the  Fleet,  now 
far  in  the  rear.  More  and  yet  more  black  shapes 
appear,  and  then  our  own  destroyers  come  up, 
dashing  through  the  sea,  at  well  over  thirty  knots 
an  hour,  leaving  a  line  of  churning  white  foam  in 
their  track.  The  enemy  catch  sight  of  them  and 
then  turn  north  at  full  pelt,  our  own  in  hot  pursuit, 
until  for  fear  of  floating  mines — it  is  a  favorite 
trick  of  the  Hun  sportsman,  when  pursued  to  drop 
mines  behind  him,  in  the  hope  that  they  will  strike 
the  enemy  ships — our  own  destroyers  come  back 
crestfallen  and  downhearted. 

En  passant  it  may  be  said  that  a  seaplane  battle 
is  very  similar  to  a  fight  between  two  aeroplanes, 
though  usually  more  slowly  fought  out,  and  hence 
longer  in  duration.  Such  feats  as  "looping"  or 
sudden  nose-dives  are  generally  impossible. 

The  morning's  work  is  now  completed,  the 
recall  signal  is  received  via  the  wireless,  and  the 
great  bird  turns  for  home,  not,  however,  without 
sighting    several    merchantmen    and    something 


SEAPLANES  47 

which  appears  to  be  the  periscope  of  a  German 
submarine,  but  which,  however,  proves  on  closer 
inspection  to  be  floating  wreckage. 

The  British  Fleet  comes  nearer  into  view,  first 
the  different  shapes  and  sizes  of  the  varying  craft, 
then  the  funnels,  then  the  masts,  the  rigging  and 
the  crew  aboard.  Throttling  down  his  engine, 
the  pilot  sinks  gradually  lower  and  lower,  and 
lands  on  the  smooth  surface  of  the  water — strange 
to  say  a  more  difficult  and  more  tricky  feat  than 
to  come  down  on  the  solid  earth  for  reasons  too 
numerous  to  mention  in  this  short  chapter. 

Another  long  "taxi"  across  the  water  to  the 
side  of  the  seaplane  carrier,  the  creaking  crane 
comes  sliding  out  again,  is  fixed  to  the  craft,  which 
is  hauled  aboard,  and  stowed  away  until  further 
required. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A  ZEPPELIN   CHASE 

"X  or  Y  airships  participated  in  the  attack  on 
Great  Britain  last  night;  Z  raiders  were  brought 
down."  Hard  official  words  these,  that,  read  in 
the  cold  black  and  white  of  print,  fail  entirely  to 
bring  to  the  reader's  mind  a  true  sense  of  the  dan- 
ger and  the  nerve-racking  conditions  under  which 
this  novel  form  of  warfare  is  fought  out. 

Let  us  imagine,  if  we  can,  the  difficulties  the 
aeroplane  pilot  has  to  face.  It  is  dark — pitch  dark 
— sky  and  earth  are  alike  indistinguishable.  Fly- 
ing at  the  best  of  times  contains  a  more  than  com- 
fortable element  of  danger,  and  in  the  darkness 
this  danger  is  accentuated.  The  darkness  deprives 
the  air  pilot  of  all  sense  of  direction  and  of  local- 
ity, greatly  hampers  him  in  the  maneuvering  of  his 
craft,  and  renders  unpleasantly  possible  a  collision 
with  another  aeroplane  on  similar  errand  bent. 

Starting  out,  there  are  a  hundred  and  one  small 
details  to  be  attended  to,  as  the  testing  of  the 
engine,  the  trying  of  elevators  and  ailerons,  and 
the  examination  of  the  petrol  and  oil  tanks,  in 

48 


A  ZEPPELIN  CHASE!  4^ 

firder  to  ascertain  if  there  is  a  sufficiency  of  both 
to  last  a  two  or  three  hour  trip.  All  this  to  be 
performed  in  the  dark,  with  the  engine  screeching 
loud,  so  that  a  man  may  not  hear  a  word,  and  the 
attendant  mechanics  indistinguishable  in  the 
gloom. 

Fortunately  for  the  pilot,  a  small  dry-cell  elec- 
tric lighting  set  is  installed  in  the  body  of  every 
machine,  and  by  this  means  the  pilot  is  able  to 
distinguish  his  instruments — a  most  necessary  ad- 
junct to  safe  flying — the  altimeter,  which  records 
the  height,  "revmeter,"  which  indicates  the  speed 
of  the  engine  and  the  compass,  more  necessary 
than  any  other  instrument  for  night  flying. 

Getting  off  from  the  ground  is  by  no  means  a 
pleasant  sensation.  There  are  hangars,  high 
roofs,  and  chimney-stacks  waiting  to  be  collided 
with,  patches  of  thin  and  rarefied  air,  which  will 
bump  the  machine  down  as  much  as  thirty  feet  at 
a  time ;  the  ever  present  danger  of  engine  failure, 
necessitating  a  descent  to  the  darkened  earth  be- 
neath, always  so  full  of  death-traps  for  the  airman 
and  his  craft. 

Clear  of  the  earth,  at  about  1000  feet,  there 
are,  here  and  there,  faint  patches  of  light  of  dark 
gray  and  the  subdued  reddish  glow  of  the  distant 
metropolis;  the  locomotive  of  a  passing  passenger 
train,  bright  as  a  searchlight  for  a  brief  moment, 
then  passing  away  into  the  outer  darkness.  Higher 


50  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

and  yet  higher;  and  the  sensation  I  The  mind  of 
a  Jules  Verne  or  of  an  H.  G.  Wells  could  not 
imagine  a  feeling  more  eerie,  more  strange  than 
this.  Noise  and  darkness,  the  incessant  deafening 
purr  of  the  engine,  the  pitch  blackness  on  all  sides, 
relieved  by  the  one  tiny  light  inside  the  fuselage, 
as  welcome  and  cheery  to  the  airman  as  a  distant 
lighthouse  to  a  sailor  in  a  storm. 

Then  the  searchlights  begin  to  blaze,  creeping 
up  across  the  sky  in  ribbons  of  shining  brightness. 
One  plays  for  a  moment  on  the  machine,  the  pilot 
is  almost  blinded  before  it  passes  on  its  strange 
search  across  the  heavens.  But  a  stringent  search 
reveals — nothing!  For  an  encounter  with  the 
raiding  airship  is  not  at  all  probable  at  an  altitude 
of  below  6000  ft.,  and  from  that  height  up  to 
15,000  ft.;  the  only  likely  encounter  is  with  the 
observation  car  of  a  Zepp.  This  car  is  usually 
suspended  hundreds  of  feet  beneath  the  mother- 
craft  by  means  of  a  stout  aluminum  cable  or 
cables,  is  about  7  ft.  by  5  ft,  composed  entirely  of 
aluminum,  and  contains  sufficient  space  for  one 
observer,  who  is  in  telephonic  communication  with 
the  commander. 

At  last  the  pilot  of  the  aeroplane  has  an  in- 
stinctive feeling  that  a  Zeppelin  is  somewhere  near 
him.  He  cannot  hear  because  of  the  noise  of  his 
own  engine,  and  he  cannot  see  because  of  the  in- 
tensity of  the  darkness  all  around  him. 


A  ZEPPELIN  CHASE  51 

The  combat  between  the  aeroplane  and  the 
Zeppelin  might  be  compared  to  that  between  the 
British  destroyers  and  the  German  Dreadnoughts 
in  the  recent  Jutland  battle.  Dashing  in  with  great 
rapidity  and  skill,  the  tiny  one-gunned  aeroplane 
fires  its  broadside,  then  makes  off  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible to  get  out  of  range  of  the  comparatively 
heavy-armed  airship.  From  thence  onwards  it 
develops  into  a  fight  for  the  upper  position,  for 
once  above  the  Zeppelin  the  aeroplane  pilot  can 
use  his  bombs,  which  are  considerably  more  ef- 
fective than  a  machine-gun,  and  the  broad  back  of 
the  gasbag  offers  a  target  which  can  hardly  be 
missed. 

In  maneuvering,  the  aeroplane  has  the  great 
advantage  of  being  remarkably  quick,  both  in 
turning,  climbing,  and  coming  down,  whereas  the 
Zeppelin  again  is  a  slow  and  clumsy  beast  at  the 
best  of  times.  The  Zeppelin  is  very  susceptible  to 
flame  and  explosion  of  any  kind;  the  gas  in  the  en- 
velope, a  mixture  of  hydrogen  and  air,  forms  an 
extremely  explosive  mixture.  The  aeroplane,  ow- 
ing to  the  fabric  of  which  it  is  composed,  and  the 
petrol  needed  for  propulsion,  is  to  a  certain  degree 
inflammable,  but  not  nearly  to  the  same  extent  as 
the  airship.  On  the  other  hand,  the  airship  pos- 
sesses a  distinct  advantage  in  that  it  is  able  to  shut 
off  its  engines,  and  to  hover,  which  it  is  impossible 
for  an  aeroplane  to  do. 


52  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

Again,  in  the  matter  of  speed  in  a  forward  di- 
rection, and,  for  that  matter,  backwards  also — 
for  the  Zeppelin  engines  are  reversible — the  aero- 
plane holds  the  palm  with  an  average  speed  of 
sixty  miles  per  hour,  while  that  of  the  airship  Is 
only  fifty. 

The  combat  finished,  the  aeroplane  pilot  has 
yet  to  make  a  landing,  surely  the  most  dangerous 
and  tricky  maneuver  of  the  whole  flight.  The 
difficulties  and  dangers  thus  encountered  are  too 
obvious  to  need  explanation  further  than  to  say 
that  the  landing  has  to  be  effected  in  the  dark,  with 
only  a  blinding,  dazzling,  electric  ground-light  for 
guidance. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   COMPLETE  AIRMAN 

The  British  Air  Service  is  now  a  great  army, 
80  per  cent,  of  whom,  before  the  war,  had  never 
even  seen  an  aeroplane,  much  less  been  up  in  one, 
— bank  clerks,  young  merchants,  undergrads, 
doctors,  lawyers,  journalists,  all  endowed  with  two 
sterling  qualities  required  by  the  pilot  of  the  air, 
courage  and  level-headedness.  And  how  has  this 
great  miracle  been  accomplished?  August  19 14, 
found  us  lamentably  short  of  both  personnel  and 
material,  but  what  little  there  was  of  the  very 
best.  The  already  experienced  pilots  set  to  work 
with  a  will  upon  the  more  than  generous  quantity 
of  raw  material  that  came  to  hand.  Within  a  few 
months  their  influence  made  itself  felt.  They 
taught  the  "quirk" — ^the  airman's  pet  name  for 
the  novice — in  their  own  simple  and  undemonstra- 
tive manner,  that  the  air  is  to  be  respected,  but 
never  feared,  the  aeroplane  treated  as  a  being  of 
life  and  animation,  with  quaint  humors  peculiarly 
its  own,  and  not  as  a  lifeless  mass  of  metal  and 
woodwork.     Within  six  months  the  number  of 

53 


54  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

fully  trained  British  pilots  had  trebled  itself;  with- 
in one  year  the  number  had  grown  beyond  all  pro- 
portion, and  still  it  goes  on. 

The  usual  method  of  training  a  new  hand  Is  to 
get  him  used  to  the  air,  which,  though  apparently 
harmless  and  void,  Is  as  tricky  and  treacherous  as 
the  sea.  The  beginner  Is  taken  up  for  several 
flights  as  a  passenger.  In  the  Initial  flight  the 
pilot  will  perform  the  most  daring  maneuvers  and 
precipitate  turns,  watching  his  passenger  closely 
the  whole  time  for  any  signs  of  nervousness  or 
fear.  It  Is  a  most  trying  ordeal  that  first  trip  up 
aloft,  and  the  bravest  hearts  have  been  known  to 
quail. 

First  Flight  Ordeals 

Recently  there  was  a  case  at  a  large  school  of  a 
Major  of  marines,  concerning  whose  courage  there 
could  be  not  the  slightest  doubt,  and  who  pos- 
sessed, among  other  decorations,  the  much  coveted 
D.S.O.  After  a  first  trip  above,  the  Major  re- 
mained In  his  seat  of  the  landed  aeroplane  for 
fully  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  ashen  of  countenance, 
and  too  terrified  to  speak.  It  was  not  cowardice, 
but  simply  that  he  was  temperamentally  unsuited. 
At  length,  when  he  had  composed  himself  sufli- 
clently  to  clamber  out,  he  vowed  that  never  again 
would  he  go  up  in  an  aeroplane. 


THE  COMPLETE  AIRMAN         55 

Following  the  first  flights  there  are  numerous 
trips  in  dual-control  machines,  that  is  to  say,  with 
the  ordinary  pilot's  control-stick  and  steering-bar 
duplicated,  and  both  couples  working  under  the 
same  control.  Thus,  gradually,  the  "quirk"  be- 
comes used  to  the  handling  of  the  craft  and  ac- 
customed to  the  sudden  drop  In  an  air  bank,  or 
to  an  outward  slip  in  a  gust  of  wind,  until  eventu- 
ally, without  his  knowledge,  the  instructor  allows 
him  to  fly  the  machine  himself. 

Sufficient  progress  made,  he  is  allowed  to  make 
flights  alone,  and  when  he  has  learnt  to  bank  left 
and  right,  and  land  the  machine  in  a  safe  and 
seemly  manner,  permission  is  given  him  to  attempt 
the  Royal  Aero  Club's  certificate;  for  which  an 
altitude  flight,  a  distance  flight,  and  a  landing  on 
a  given  spot  are  the  only  tests  that  are  necessary. 
This,  let  it  be  said,  Is  but  the  starting-point  of 
the  flying  education.  Flying  fast  machines,  wire- 
less operating,  machine-gun  firing,  bomb-dropping, 
navigation  and  map-reading  are  still  to  be  mas- 
tered. Only  one  who  has  been  in  the  air  and  seen 
that  queer  panorama  of  jumbled  green,  gray  and 
blue,  stretching  away  for  miles  on  either  hand  be- 
hind him,  can  appreciate  the  difl^culties  of  an  air 
pilot  endeavoring  to  make  a  true  course  from  a 
mist-bound  earth;  or  when  one's  hands  are  frozen 
to  the  bone,  and  the  ice-cold  wind  whistles  by  one's 
ears,  the  extreme  difficulty  of  maneuvering  the  con- 


S6  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

trol-stlck  and  working  the  machine-gun  at  one  and 
the  same  time. 


Reconnaissance  and  Night  Flying      ^ 

This  much  for  daylight  flying,  but  what  of  the 
night  when  sky  and  earth  are  alike  indistinguish- 
able? Truly  night  flying  is  a  science  unto  itself 
which  needs  more  than  the  average  amount  of 
courage.  However,  nightwork  is  given  to  only 
the  most  experienced  pilots. 

With  active  service  flying  again,  we  enter  into 
a  new  phase  of  which  reconnaissance  work  occu- 
pies at  least  eighty  per  cent,  of  the  time.  Simply 
put,  reconnaissance  means  flying  over  the  other 
fellow's  lines  to  see  what  he  is  about,  if  he  is 
massing  troops  at  a  certain  point,  or  digging  in 
new  gun  emplacements,  or  if  there  is  any  unusual 
activity  on  the  highways  and  railways  immediately 
behind  his  firing  line.  It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  dif- 
ferentiate between  infantry  and  cavalry  on  the 
march;  to  distinguish  a  cleverly  hidden  gun  em- 
placement, or  to  tell  the  difference  between  an  am- 
munition and  a  supply  depot. 

Bomb-dropping  is  a  practice  that  requires  the 
patience  of  a  Job,  good  judgment,  and  a  calm  day 
— that  is,  if  it  is  required  to  attain  any  degree  of 
accuracy.  Last,  but  not  least,  there  is  the  mat- 
ter  of   aerial   combat,   which,    however,    covers 


THE  COiMPLETE  AIRMAN  57 

too   wide    a    field    for   discussion    in   this    short 
chapter. 

Thus,  in  the  complete  air-pilot,  we  have  a  blend 
of  gunner,  wireless  expert,  map-reader,  amateur 
detective,  and  aviator. 


PART  II 
ON  ACTIVE  SERVICE 


(Part  II  contains  a  series  of  incidents  and  ad- 
ventures taken  from  the  note-book  of  a  British  air 
pilot,  stationed  somewhere  in  the  north  of  France, 
and  are  given  in  their  original  diary  form.) 


CHAPTER  IX 

BEHIND  THE  FIRING  LINE 

Somewhere  in  France, 
Friday. 

Tucked  away  in  a  corner  of  an  unused  Flan- 
ders roadway,  a  long  straggled  line  of  irregular 
shaped  huts  and  sheds  surrounding  a  wide  open 
meadow  land,  several  acres  in  extent,  is  the  aero- 
drome I  have  in  mind. 

On  either  side  are  the  long  gaunt  avenues  of 
trees  and  in  rear  of  them,  bare  and  low-lying 
arable  lands. 

No  one  can  claim  for  it  that  it  is  a  beauty  spot. 
But  it  is  comfortable,  and  above  all  one  is  able  to 
obtain  a  bath  there. 

On  the  right  are  the  officers'  quarters:  three 
long,  low,  wooden  huts.  Within,  a  passage  runs 
along  the  center  of  the  hut;  and  on  either  side  of 
it  are  the  various  cabins,  each  about  six  feet 
square,  and  providing  just  sufficient  space  for  a 
camp-bed,  washstand  and  chair. 

6i 


62  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

A  stove  Is  at  either  end  for  warming  purposes; 
and  one  bath  is  allotted  to  each  hut. 

The  mess-room  is  contained  in  a  similar  build- 
ing across  the  way.  The  furniture  is  not  such  that 
one  would  meet  with,  say  at  the  Ritz  or  the  Savoy; 
but  it  serves  its  purpose.  Three  plain  deal  tables, 
each  covered  with  a  spotless  cloth.  A  dozen  or  so 
stiff-back  wooden  chairs,  and  one  solitary  easy- 
chair.  The  competition  for  the  latter  is  enor- 
mous. 

The  general  atmosphere  of  the  place  is  cheery 
to  a  degree.  Every  member  of  the  mess  is  full  of 
good  humor,  quips  and  jests.  Sub  chaffs  captain 
and  captain  chaffs  sub,  the  while  they  attack  plain 
wholesome  fare  with  an  unstinted  vigor. 

After  dinner  in  the  evening,  an  impromptu  con- 
cert is  started.  One,  an  obliging  musician,  renders 
an  excellent  violin  solo.  He  is  followed  by  a 
gentleman  of  poor  voice.  The  station  orchestra, 
in  which  the  penny  tin  whistle  is  the  most  promi- 
nent instrument,  plays  delightfully  and  harmoni- 
ously with  the  possible  exception  of  one  member 
in  the  extreme  rear,  who,  having  previously  had 
some  bread-crumbs  gently  deposited  down  his  neck 
by  an  admiring  colleague,  finds  some  difficulty  in 
reaching  the  correct  notes.  It  is,  of  course,  the 
star-turn  of  the  evening. 

There  are  good  card-games  to  be  had,  when  off 
duty.   Also  a  gramophone  and  two  pianos.    The 


BEHIND  THE  FIRING  LINE         63 

gramophone  usually  will  not  work.  Ludo  is  the 
rage  to-day.  Badminton,  writing  letters  home,  and 
visiting  the  neighboring  town  about  complete  the 
leisure  time.  There  is,  however,  really  not  very 
much  to  do  in  the  town,  except  to  sit  in  the  cafes, 
drink  bad  coffee,  and  try  to  talk  French  to  the 
girls. 

Any  number  and  variety  of  pets  and  mascots  are 
there.  Cats  and  kittens,  dogs  of  all  breeds.  A 
few  hunters,  with  which  some  excellent  rides  across 
the  sand-dunes  can  be  obtained.  A  goat  that 
wanders  around  the  aerodrome  risking  life  a  dozen 
times  daily  from  aeroplanes  getting  off  and  land- 
ing. And  a  parrot  with  a  perfectly  wonderful 
vocabulary  of  oaths. 

Thus  far  we  have  been  shown  only  the  lighter 
side  of  the  life.  Now  we  come  to  the  more  serious 
work  of  flying  across  the  lines.  The  strain  on  the 
nerves  is  so  great  that  a  pilot  is  only  detailed  for 
duty  every  other  day.  The  work  is  distributed 
among  the  various  squadrons  and  flights.  One  is 
responsible  for  reconnaissance  work;  a  morning 
and  an  afternoon  patrol  along  the  coast  for  sub- 
marines, or  a  trip  inland  to  have  a  look  at  a  new 
gun  emplacement,  or  to  report  on  a  new  movement 
of  the  enemy's  troops.  Another,  the  fighting 
squadron,  is  responsible  for  the  bombing  raids,  for 
the  battle  flights,  for  convoying  the  reconnaissance 
machines,  and  for  meeting  enemy  air  attacks. 


64  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

To  the  headquarters  flight  is  allotted  the  pho- 
tography, and  any  special  and  confidential  job 
that  may  crop  up. 

Naturally  there  Is  the  pick  of  all  the  machines, 
equipped  with  all  the  latest  improvements  and 
inventions. 

One  peculiarity  concerning  atmospheric  condi- 
tions on  the  other  side  is,  that  either  the  weather 
is  too  misty  for  flying,  or  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
so  remarkably  clear,  that  it  Is  possible  to  view  the 
land  from  twice  the  altitude  that  it  would  be  under 
similar  circumstances  In  England.  For  the  first 
two  hours  after  sunrise  there  is  invariably  a  heavy 
ground  mist,  and  very  little  takes  place  save  when 
an  expedition  is  setting  out  for  some  distant  spot, 
necessitating  an  early  start.  The  late  morning  and 
the  late  afternoon  are  the  most  favorable  times 
for  flying  purposes. 

Almost  the  whole  of  the  Flanders  country  is 
Intersected  by  waterways  and  canals.  This  is  of 
extreme  value  to  the  air  pilot,  and  aids  him  greatly 
In  the  matter  of  navigation.  Railway  systems  there 
are  in  plenty,  mostly  following  an  east  or  west 
direction. 

The  junctions  of  these  railway  lines  are  the 
nerve  centers  of  the  German  Army  in  the  field; 
they  control  entirely  the  supplies  of  reinforce- 
ments, ammunition,  and  supplies  to  the  firing  line. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  so  many  of  our  own  air 


BEHIND  THE  FIRING  LINE        65 

raids  have  been  made  on  Bruges,  Courtrai,  Rou- 
baix,  Lille,  Tournai,  and  Douai.  Each  of  these 
towns  mentioned  contains  an  important  railway 
junction. 

The  large  majority  of  the  Belgian  towns  in  the 
enemy  country,  immediately  behind  the  firing  line, 
have  been  totally  deserted  by  their  inhabitants  and 
the  soldiers  alike;  it  is  not  considered  either  safe 
or  desirable  to  remain  within  the  area  of  a  con- 
spicuous landmark,  of  which  the  enemy  artillery 
can  obtain  an  exact  bearing  with  the  utmost  ease. 
Added  to  this,  frequent  allied  air-raids,  and  the 
accurate  firing  of  the  Allied  artillery  have  reduced 
them  to  untenable  masses  of  fallen  masonry. 

A  point  regarding  aerial  photography  is  worthy 
of  note;  if  the  surface  of  the  earth  has  been  dis- 
turbed in  any  way  within  two  days  previous  to 
the  photo  being  taken,  that  is,  disturbed  by  the 
explosion  of  a  shell,  or  a  new  path  across  a  field 
made  by  the  tramp  of  many  feet,  such  disturbance 
will  always  show  up  prominently  on  the  camera 
negative. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   FIRST  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LINE 

Somewhere  in  France, 

Monday. 

A  MOST  Important  entry  In  my  little  diary,  this, 
the  day  of  my  first  trip  across  the  "lines." 

And  here  In  the  privacy  of  my  thoughts  and  of 
my  pen  let  It  be  said  that  at  first  I  was  troubled 
with  qualms  of  fear — qualms  that  I  had  experi- 
enced In  the  previous  life  after  a  stormy  Channel 
crossing,  or  prior  to  a  visit  to  my  dentist. 

As  I  stood  there  on  the  dreary,  wind-swept  aero- 
drome in  the  chilly  rays  of  the  early  morning  sun, 
forebodings  filled  my  mind.  Visions  of  an  awful 
death  in  mid-air,  and  a  yet  more  awful  vision  of 
a  downward  rush  of  thousands  of  feet  to  the 
ground  below.  Comforting  myself  with  the  re- 
flections that,  after  all,  out  of  the  large  number 
of  machines  that  must  daily  cross  the  lines  the  pro- 
portion of  those  reported  missing  was  extremely 
small,  I  was  roused  from  my  pessimistic  thoughts 
by  the  voice  of  the  pilot,  who  was  already  in  his 

66 


FIRST  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LINE      67 

seat  enjoying  the  luxury  of  the  last  few  puffs  at  his 
"gasper"  (cigarette)  before  testing  the  engine. 

He  invited  me  cordially  to  "hop  in,"  and  once 
in  to  strap  myself  in  securely.  With  his  calm 
matter-of-fact  air,  which,  incidentally  cheered  me 
up  considerably,  one  would  have  thought  that  we 
were  about  to  start  for  a  motor  run  through  Picca- 
dilly and  the  Park  rather  than,  as  he  so  pictur- 
esquely styled  it,  "to  play  the  part  of  a  clay  pigeon 
atop  of  a  firework  show." 

Three  heavy-eyed  mechanics  now  appeared  upon 
the  scene,  and,  after  having  been  slanged  roundly 
for  their  late  arrival  by  our  cheery  Jehu,  the  en- 
gine was  started  with  an  alarming  whirr.  A  few 
preliminaries  and  she  got  well  away. 

For  a  few  moments  we  circled  round  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  aerodrome,  to  gain  height.  Then 
in  the  first  contact  with  the  icy-cold  morning 
breeze  I  felt  thankful  that  I  had  taken  the  sound 
advice  of  clothing  myself  well.  I  must  have 
looked  for  all  the  world  like  an  Eskimo  or  an 
Arctic  explorer  in  my  wool-lined  leather  coat  and 
overall  trousers,  a  knitted  Balaclava  hat  or  hel- 
met, and  over  that  again  a  skull-cap,  the  whole 
tied  down  tightly  beneath  my  chin.  A  huge  wool- 
en muffler  round  my  neck  and  a  pair  of  unsightly 
goggles  completed  the  picture.  I  had  treated  my 
hands  and  face  with  a  generous  dose  of  vaseline, 
which  I  had  been  assured  would  keep  out  the  cold, 


68  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

and  which  advice  I  now  gratefully  acknowledge 
to  be  correct. 

As  we  mount  higher  my  perspective  extends, 
and  out  of  the  gray  mists  and  the  dark  shadows 
land  and  sea  begin  to  assume  their  natural  form 
and  color.  On  the  former  there  are  now  signs  of 
movement;  along  the  roads  crawl  the  ant-like  pro- 
cession of  ammunition  columns  back  from  their 
nightly  trip  to  the  firing  lines.  A  steaming  "Puff- 
ing Billy"  slowly  drags  along  on  a  limber,  a 
"grandmother"  (naval  15-inch  gun)  blocking  up 
the  whole  roadway,  which  must  cause  considerable 
annoyance  to  the  long  string  of  cars  and  motor- 
bike dispatch  riders  held  up  in  the  rear. 

On  the  roadside,  by  a  wood,  a  company  of 
Infantry  are  falling  In  for  early  parade;  they  look 
up  at  us  In  a  half  Interested  sort  of  way.  Some 
wave  their  hats  and  rifles  at  us.  I  wave  my  hand 
In  reply,  but  know  they  cannot  see  us.  We  keep 
on  climbing  steadily.    Out  at  sea  are  two  French 

torpedo-boats  making  up  the  coast  towards , 

and  a  few  small  trawlers  sailing  off  In  the  direction 
of  England.     Happy  thought  I 

Every  moment  we  are  getting  nearer  to  the 
dreaded  area.  In  the  far  distance  I  can  see  the  red 
flashes  of  the  rifles,  the  smoke  clouds  of  the 
heavy  guns,  and  the  long  gray  lines  of  winding 
trenches.  I  look  at  my  map,  to  discover  that  we 
are  passing  over  a  junction  of  two  main  roads,  one 


FIRST  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LINE      69 

of  which  Is  crossed  by  a  railway,  while  beneath 
the  other  runs  a  narrow  stream.     It  is . 

Five  miles  to  the  firing  line.  With  my  glasses 
I  can  already  pick  out  several  of  our  own  field- 
artillery  emplacements,  and  a  moving  up  of  rein- 
forcements from  the  rear — I  would  surmise  about 
two  battalions  of  infantry.  I  time  the  observation 
on  my  report  sheet;  also  I  discover  from  my  wrist 
compass — my  most  prized  and  valued  possession 
— that  we  are  going  too  much  to  the  north-west 
and  tell  the  pilot  so  by  means  of  a  written  message. 

Course  changed  I  What  are  Headquarters  or- 
ders for  the  flight?   A  reconnaissance  over , 

I  puzzle  out  as  well  as  my  now  fevered  brain  will 
allow  me,  whether  reconnaissance  will  be  tactical 
or  strategical,  and  again  whether  "line"  or  "area." 
For  the  benefit  of  those  who  may  perhaps  read  my 
diary  I  will  here  endeavor  to  explain  the  fine 
points  which  divide  the  two.  The  former  recon- 
naissance necessitates  flying  and  observing  along  a 
line  between  two  given  points  on  the  map,  these 
points  having  already  been  marked  in  before  leav- 
ing the  ground.  Area  reconnaissance,  on  the 
other  hand,  comprises  observation  of  a  whole 
area  or  district.  To  do  this  successfully  it  is 
necessary  to  fly  backward  and  forward  several 
times,  thus  adding  greater  risk  to  the  adventure, 
and  taking  a  great  deal  longer  time  to  accomplish. 
Hence  they  are  not  undertaken  very  far  away 


70  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

from  our  own  lines,  and  then  only  if  particular  in- 
formation is  required. 

Thus  far  the  weather  had  rendered  the  trip 
ideal.  But  it  would  be  an  entirely  different  mat- 
ter, I  surmised,  when  we  came  within  reach  of  the 
enemy  anti-aircraft  guns.  Already  they  were  get- 
ting uncomfortably  near.  Should  we  have  an  easy 
passage  across  or  should  we  have  to  climb  up  for 
our  lives  above  the  bursting  "Archies"? 

We  were  not  left  long  in  doubt.  Their  men 
must  have  been  up  particularly  early  that  morn- 
ing, for  the  very  first  shot  came  within  an  ace  of 
blighting  two  young  and  promising  careers. 
There  was  a  loud  report  on  the  ground  below, 
the  familiar  "sing"  of  an  approaching  shell,  which 
at  first  interests  one,  but  which  in  the  course  of 
time  one  gets  to  dread.  Then  it  seemed  for  the 
moment  that  the  whole  machine  had  been  blown 
to  atoms.    But  no  I  We  started  to  climb  hurriedly. 

"High  explosive,"  the  pilot  bawled  in  my  ear. 
"Going  up  higher." 

For  the  next  three  minutes  my  feelings  were 
the  reverse  of  pleasant,  and  I  fervently  hoped  that 
other  observers  did  not  suffer  in  the  same  way. 
Shells  burst  above,  below,  to  the  right,  to  the  left, 
and  all  round  us;  but  never  near  enough  to  do  us 
any  serious  harm,  though  the  bullets  of  one  shrap- 
nel shell  certainly  did  rattle  against  the  wings, 
piercing  them  with  minute  holes  in  several  places. 


FIRST  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LINE       71 

and  I  felt  very  thankful  for  the  uncomfortable 
sandbag  on  which  I  sat,  which  protected  me  from 
bursting  shells  beneath. 

As  we  climbed  to  a  higher  altitude  the  Huns 
ceased  their  attentions,  and  we  very  soon  arrived 
over  the  scene  of  our  "line."  My  bad  attack  of 
"cold  feet"  now  having  passed  over,  I  set  myself 
to  think  seriously  upon  the  precepts  drummed  into 
my  thick  head  by  the  instructor  at  the  training 
school.  "The  observer"  he  was  wont  to  say, 
"should  always  try  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  mil- 
itary situation,  and  particularly  in  the  encounter 
battle,  and  discover  the  disposition  of  our  own 
troops." 

One  point  I  could  and  did  satisfy  myself  upon — 
this  was  no  encounter  battle.     So  I  ignored  our 

own  forces  and  kept  my  attention  fixed  upon . 

Nothing  extraordinary  met  my  eye.  I  saw  a  camp 
here  and  there,  and  turned  my  glasses  upon  them 
and  discovered  that  they  were  composed  of  huts. 
Hurriedly  I  counted  them,  and  noted  the  number 
in  my  report,  together  with  the  altitude,  12,000 
ft.  Again  the  solemn  advice  of  my  worthy  in- 
structor passed  through  my  brain:  "The  eyes 
must  constantly  turn  to  each  likely  spot,  and  each 
spot  must  be  examined  carefully  with  the  glasses 
if  it  offers  anything  useful  for  the  observer's  re- 
port." 

I  examined  each  likely  spot,  and  discovered  to 


72  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

my  delight  a  broad  grass  meadow  across  which 
ran  several  pathways  of  very  recent  construction. 
Footpaths,  I  argued  to  myself  (and  I  may  possi- 
bly have  been  wrong)  are  not  made  across  fields 
for  the  mere  pleasure  of  constructing  them.  There 
is  more  in  this  than  meets  the  eye.  I  signaled  to 
my  companion  and  he  quickly  grasped  the  situa- 
tion, and  in  long  sweeping  circles,  brought  her 
down  some  2000  ft.  The  lower  we  came  the 
more  distinctly  I  could  make  out  that  some  sort 
of  emplacement  was  being  built  up — the  new  em- 
placement for  a  17-inch  howitzer.  I  noted  the 
same. 

An  excellent  morning's  work.  We  turn  to  go 
home.  But  the  enemy  has  not  appreciated  our 
attentions  and  most  unthoughtfully  turns  his  guns 
upon  us. 

Then  the  fun  begins.  It  was  bad  enough  cross- 
ing the  lines,  but  child's-play  when  compared  with 
this;  and  besides  we  are  two  thousand  lower.  A 
perfect  inferno  of  "Archies."  We  bank  first  to 
one  side  then  to  the  other;  put  her  nose  down  for 
a  moment  or  so,  then  climb  for  all  we  are  worth. 

But  it  is  no  good.    We  are  hit  I 

Down  goes  her  nose,  down  and  down.  The  air 
whistles  past  our  ears.  The  earth  rushes  up  to 
meet  us.     The  discs  of  the  machine-gun  topple 

overboard,  so  steep  has  the  angle  become.    

must  have  been  hit.    Yes !  there  he  is,  all  huddled 


FIRST  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LINE        73 

up  over  the  joy-stick  (control-stick).  I  give  up 
all  hope,  when  suddenly,  the  machine  starts  to 
right  herself.  I  look  around,  and  find  that  the 
rush  through  the  air  must  have  brought  him  to. 
He  is  manfully  straining  every  nerve  to  get  her 
out  of  the  nose-dive.  By  a  superhuman  effort  he 
succeeds.  We  manage  to  get  across  the  lines  un- 
noticed save  by  a  few  infantrymen,  who  fire 
futilely  at  us,  and  land  a  bare  hundred  yards  the 

other  side  of  our  own  trenches.     makes  a 

beautiful  landing,  pulls  her  up  dead,  and  promptly 
faints  in  his  seat.     My  first  trip  1 


CHAPTER  XI 

SOME  ANECDOTES 

Somewhere  in  Belgium, 

Thursday. 

"The  life  of  an  airman  is  one  of  intense  idle- 
ness interrupted  by  moments  of  violent  fear." 
This  remark,  originating  as  it  does  from  a  youth- 
ful member  of  the  Senior  Service  describes,  more 
aptly  than  any  other  yet  penned,  the  life  of  the 
airman  under  active  service  conditions.  Some- 
times there  will  come  a  spell  of  fine  weather,  and 
he  is  kept  going  hard  at  it  from  sunrise  to  sunset. 
At  other,  times  when  the  weather  is  too  bad  for 
flying,  he  has  nought  else  to  do  but  sit  round  the 
mess-fire  and  tell  stories. 

The  memory  of  those  wet  days!  Men  of  all 
sorts  and  conditions  exchanging  personal  experi- 
ences: anecdotes  of  hair-raising  escapes  from 
bursting  shrapnel  shells,  thrilling  fights  with  Air 
Huns,  miraculous  evolutions  in  mid-air,  and  a 
thousand  and  one  other  subjects  dear  to  the  heart 
of  the  airman.  I  will  here  endeavor  to  relate 
several  of  the  best  stories  that  have  so  far  come 

74 


SOME  ANECDOTES  75 

my  way,  but  it  is  impossible  to  tell  more  than  five 
per  cent,  of  them,  for  their  name  is  Legion. 

The  first  story  concerns  a  well-known  aero- 
drome somewhere  in  Flanders.  The  pilots  of  the 
station,  when  the  weather  was  too  bad  for  flying, 
filled  up  their  spare  time  by  playing  football ;  until 
one  day  a  wag  amongst  them  suggested  that  a  ball 
should  be  blown  up  as  tight  as  possible ;  taken  up 
in  an  aeroplane  and  dropped  on  the  German  lines. 
This  suggestion  was  duly  carried  out  and  the  first 
fine  day  the  ball  was  put  aboard  a  machine  going 
up  the  Belgian  Coast  for  a  reconnaissance  trip. 
Arrived  over  the  town  that  had  been  decided  upon, 
it  was  dropped  overboard,  with  quite  accurate  aim 
into  the  market  square.  Seeing  this  dark  awesome 
object  falling  through  the  air  and  taking  it  for  a 
bomb  the  Germans  took  to  their  heels.  Landing 
on  the  cobbled  pave,  it  must  have  bounced  nearly 
twenty  feet  into  the  air,  then  gradually  lower  and 
lower,  until  at  last  it  rolled  into  a  ditch.  Then 
and  only  then  did  the  Germans  reappear,  one  fat 
soldier  going  over  to  it  and  giving  it  a  vicious  kick. 

An  instance  of  air  camaraderie  was  that  of  the 
Bosche  who  brought  Pegoud  down  after  a  fight  in 
mid-air.  Hearing  that  he  had  been  killed,  and 
where  he  was  to  be  buried,  he  came  over  and 
dropped  a  wreath  on  the  scene  of  his  burial 
ground — a  pretty  compliment  that  was  greatly 
appreciated. 


76  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

The  story  concerning  Captain  M is  the 

most  striking  of  the  war.  Poor  fellow,  he  has 
since  been  killed.     It  happened  one  very  misty 

morning.     M was  on  a  reconnaissance  trip. 

His  engine  failed  and  had  to  come  down  a  good 
ten  miles  behind  their  lines.  However,  he  landed 
safely,  and  had  just  burnt  his  machine,  when  he 
saw  three  dark  figures  coming  up  out  of  the  fog, 
and  taking  discretion  to  be  the  better  part  of  valor 
he  fled,  and  hid  himself  in  a  ditch  hard  by.  He 
was  there  for  the  whole  of  a  day  and  a  night,  and 
it  has  since  been  ascertained  that  there  were  close 
on  five  thousand  Bosches  searching  for  him  the 
whole  time.  When  he  found  the  coast  was  clear, 
he  crept  out  of  the  ditch,  and  marched  off  boldly 
down  the  road  until  he  met  a  friendly  Belgian 
peasant;  from  this  chap  he  wheedled  an  old  suit 
of  clothes,  and,  thus  attired,  walked  on  nearly  to 
Lille.  Here  he  acted  somewhat  foolishly.  He 
boarded  a  tramcar  bound  for  the  city,  not  know- 
ing where  to  ask  to  be  put  down.  The  car  was 
full  of  Prussian  officers.  The  man  came  for  his 
fare;  and  for  a  moment  he  was  nonplussed. 
Then  he  had  a  brain-wave.  Remembering  that 
every  town  in  Belgium  possesses  a  glorified  mar- 
ket square,  he  demanded  a  la  grande  place,  s'il 
vous  plait,  and  pulled  out  a  handful  of  silver  coins 
to  pay  the  man.  Such  a  thing  as  a  silver  coin 
had  not  been  seen  in  Lille  for  months,  ever  since 


SOME  ANECDOTES  77 

the  Germans  had  captured  it  in  fact.  Fortunately 
the  Prussians  were  too  much  occupied  in  their 
own  conversation  to  take  any  notice  of  ein 
schweinhund  of  a  Belgian  peasant.  Arrived  in 
the  city,  luck  again  favored  him,  and  he  obtained 
shelter  in  a  garret  for  three  weeks.  Then  the 
police  grew  suspicious,  and  late  one  night  he  was 
forced  to  clear  out  hurriedly.  After  leaving  the 
city  he  had  a  terrible  time.  He  tramped  right 
across  Belgium,  always  at  night,  and  every  mo- 
ment in  fear  of  his  life,  feeding  on  anything  he 
could  find,  crusts  and  offal  thrown  to  the  pigs, 
and  stale  bread  thrown  away  by  the  German 
soldiers.  Footsore,  weary,  hungry  and  exhausted 
he  at  last  arrived  at  the  Dutch  frontier.  Here 
occurred  another  agonizing  wait.  Again  for  a 
day  and  a  night  he  lay  hidden  in  a  ditch,  until 
late  that  evening  the  sentry  paused  on  his  beat  to 
light  his  pipe.  This  was  his  opportunity.  It  was 
a  moonlight  night.  He  dashed  across  the  inter- 
vening space.  The  sentry  fired  three  shots  and 
missed  each  time.  He  got  across  Holland,  to  a 
seaport  town,  stowed  himself  aboard  a  fishing 
smack,  got  to  England  and  reported  himself  to 
the  astonished  officials  at  the  War  Office. 

This  reminds  me  of  a  story  told  by  a  certain 
famous  airman,  a  little  man  with  a  great  heart,  on 
whose  breast  there  are  the  flaring  crimson  of  the 
French  Legion  d'Honneur  and  the  crimson  and 


78  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

blue  of  the  Distinguished  Service  Order.  I  will 
give  you  his  own  words.     "I  went  over  the  lines 

with  X for  an  observer.     He'd  never  been 

over  the  lines  before  and  I  must  confess  that  I 
felt  a  wee  bit  shaky  as  to  how  he  would  take  it. 
Luckily  we  got  across  without  a  single  shot  being 
fired  at  us — and  then  we  met  a  Taube,  coming 
right  down  wind  at  about  ninety  miles,  and  at 

about  our  own  level.    I  looked  at  X ,  who  for 

a  time,  was  too  busy  watching  the  other  chap  com- 
ing up  to  notice  me,  but  finally  he  turned  and 
smiled,  and  I  knew  he  was  all  right.  'Got  the 
Lewis-gun  ready?'  I  bawled  into  his  ear.  He 
nodded,  and  then  we  cleared  the  decks  for  action, 
so  to  speak.  He  put  a  fresh  tray  of  ammunition 
on  the  gun,  and  got  two  other  trays  ready  by  the 
side  of  him,  while  I  had  a  look  at  the  bombs  and 
grenades,  and  put  the  joy-stick  about  a  bit  just  to 
see  that  she  was  all  right.  The  other  chap  still 
kept  on,  and  was  only  about  a  hundred  yards  off 

when    X opened    fire,    zipp-zipp-zipp-zipp, 

seventy-eight  of  the  little  beggars  slick  into  the 
middle  of  him.  Gave  him  hell,  I  can  tell  you ;  at 
all  events  he  didn't  stick  it  long.  Down  went  the 
nose  of  his  machine,  and  he  was  very  soon  about 
a  thousand  feet  beneath  us.  I  loosed  off  all  my 
bombs,  quick  as  I  could,  missed  every  time,  had 
a  shot  with  a  grenade  and  missed  again.  I  must 
confess  I  felt  a  wee  bit  flurried  that  morning — and 


SOME  ANECDOTES  79 

thea  X began.     Never  laughed  so  much  in 

all  my  life.  He  laid  his  hands  on  everything,  his 
hat  and  his  glasses — Government  glasses,  by  the 
way — and  his  revolver  and  spare  cartridges. 
Thank  God !  There  was  nothing  of  mine  in  the 
front  there." 

Not  nearly  so  pleasant,  however,  was  the  ex- 
perience of  a  certain  seaplane  pilot,  who  when 
flying  across  the  Channel  from  Belgium  to  Eng- 
land was  forced  by  engine  trouble  to  come  down 
on  to  the  sea,  in  the  midst  of  our  own  mine-fields, 
very  far  removed  from  the  track  of  all  shipping. 
Here  he  remained  for  eleven  and  a  half  hours, 
until  sighted  by  a  torpedo-boat,  which  though  un- 
able to  reach  him  herself,  was  able  to  give  warn- 
ing ashore,  so  that  a  small  motor-boat  succeeded 
in  finding  a  way  through  the  mines,  rescued  the 
pilot,  but  was  forced  to  abandon  the  machine. 

Another  story  concerning  Pegoud.  The  Ger- 
mans brought  Pegoud  down,  when  flying  one  of 
the  new  French  machines,  that  are  supposed  to 
have  so  many  wonderful  new  improvements 
aboard,  and  that  they're  so  secretive  about.  He 
didn't  have  time  to  burn  it — and  the  Huns  were 
very  keen  on  learning  how  the  thing  flew.  So  they 
tackled  Pegoud  on  the  subject.  He  said  he  was 
perfectly  willing  to  give  them  an  exhibition  him- 
self, but  they  didn't  care  for  the  idea.  "Yes,  and 
when  you  get  up  there  you'll  fly  away  back  to  your 


8o  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

own  lines  again."  "Very  well,"  he  said;  "send 
two  of  your  men  up  with  revolvers  and  let  them 
sit  one  on  each  side  of  me,  so  that  I  won't  be  able 
to  get  away."  To  this  they  afterwards  agreed, 
and  the  first  fine  morning  Pegoud,  with  the  two 
men  sitting  on  each  side  of  the  fuselage,  goes  up 
about  10,000  feet.  Then  one  of  the  Huns  began 
to  get  impatient.  Said  he:  "I  think  we'd  better 
go  down  now."  "That's  all  right,"  Pegoud  an- 
swered, "you're  going."  And  with  that  he  put  his 
joy-stick  down.  She  went  over  a  good  clean  loop, 
and  the  Bosches  went  down  quicker  than  they 
bargained  for. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SPORT   EXTRAORDINARY 

Somewhere  in  the  North  of  France, 

Monday. 

There  is  an  undoubted  fascination  in  being 
about  at  sunrise  on  a  clear,  fine  morning.  And 
especially  so  when  up  in  the  air. 

Our  day  was  of  this  variety.  A  day  when  a 
man's  heart  yearns  for  a  moor,  a  dog,  and  a  gun. 
For  moor  we  had  the  long,  flat,  dreary  sandhill 
and  marshes  of  the  Belgian  coast;  a  dog  was  not 
needed,  and  in  fact  would  have  been  in  the  way. 

And  our  gun  was  not  of  a  type  particularly  well- 
known  or  approved  of  in  sporting  circles — a 
"Lewis"  machine-gun,  fitted  above  with  a  tray  of 
forty-seven  cartridges. 

Our  quest  was  "wild  ducks,"  an  idea  as  novel 
as  it  was  entertaining,  originating  with  the  padre 
of  the  station — a  cheery  individual,  who  divided 
his  attention  between  writing  insufferably  bad 
verse,  and  collecting  mess-subscriptions  from  irri- 
tated members. 

The  sun  rose  over  the  sea,  lighting  the  blue 

8l 


82  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

surface  with  a  thousand  scintillating  rays.  The 
tents  of  the  camps  thousands  of  feet  below  began 
to  show  up  against  the  gray  of  the  earth,  and  the 
red  flashes  of  the  rifle  volleys  combined  with  the 
white  cloud  and  roar  of  the  belching  heavy-gun 
to  complete  our  picture  of  the  waking  world. 

But  we  had  not  much  time  to  pay  attention  to 
these  matters,  for  our  minds  and  eyes  were  con- 
centrated on  the  one  subject. 

From  what  direction  would  they  first  appear? 
Would  they  come  up  to  us,  or  would  we  have  to 
put  "her"  down  to  them?  The  sun  was  well  up 
in  the  sky,  and  signs  of  life  and  movement  were 
beginning  to  make  themselves  manifest  "down 
there,"  before  several  tiny  black  specks  appeared 
on  the  horizon  coming  up  from  the  ground  behind 
the  marshes  at  Nieuport. 

We  brought  the  aeroplane  round,  to  get  the 
birds  between  the  sun  and  ourselves,  and  with  the 
wind  at  their  backs,  so  as  not  to  be  aware  of  our 
approach.  However,  they  turned  off  seawards, 
and  again  we  had  to  change  our  course,  until  they 
seemed  to  be  at  too  great  a  distance  for  us  ever 
to  get  them  within  gun  range.  The  noise  of  the 
racing  engine  must  have  reached  them  on  this  new 
tack,  for  we  were  now  only  half-head  on  to  the 
wind;  but  of  this  they  took  not  the  slightest  notice, 
keeping  on  their  way  a  regular  and  well-ordered 
flock. 


SPORT  EXTRAORDINARY  83 

As  a  matter  of  fact  this  could  be  explained  by 
the  reason  that  birds  in  that  neighborhood  must 
have  become  so  entirely  used  to  the  whirr  of  a 
passing  aeroplane,  for  as  many  as  a  score  passed 
over  this  same  district  every  fine  day. 

We  now  changed  our  tactics,  and  brought  her 
round  with  the  sun  at  our  backs,  casting  a  shadow 
across  the  path  of  the  moving  flock,  and  a  small 
dull  replica  which  moved  in  an  alarming  and 
amazing  manner  across  field  and  hedge,  house  and 
farm,  beneath. 

At  last  we  were  getting  up  with  them,  and  to 
signalize  the  happy  event  the  padre  let  off  a  dozen 
rounds,  which  went  very  far  wide  of  the  mark,  and 
only  served  to  divide  the  flock  into  two  portions, 
the  larger  of  which  continued  in  a  seaward  direc- 
tion. 

These  we  determined  to  follow,  and  coming 
down  to  500  feet,  opened  the  engine  "full  out"  to 
close  on  100  miles  an  hour. 

Never  before  had  one  realized  the  wonderful 
speed  which  these  birds  can  keep  up  when  on  the 
wing.  For  with  all  our  great  speed  we  were  yet 
far  behind,  and  every  moment  drawing  nearer  to 
the  sea,  across  which  at  this  extremely  low  altitude 
we  dare  not  venture. 

Thus  it  seemed  as  if  we  should  have  to  return, 
defeated  and  discomforted,  to  a  scoffing,  chaffing 


84  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

audience  on  the  aerodrome,  still  visible  some  five 
miles  to  the  south-east. 

However,  immediately  before  reaching  the  sea- 
shore our  quarry  turned  again,  and  this  time  along 
the  coast.  Then,  banking  her  over  to  the  new 
direction,  we  found  ourselves  "down-wind"  with 
an  additional  speed  at  the  back  of  us  of  1 5  m.  p.  h., 
which  soon  began  to  tell.  The  padre  began  to  get 
unduly  excited,  and  succeeded  in  giving  a  not  un- 
musical series  of  "zimms"  on  the  gun;  the  car- 
tridges falling  spent  and  useless  on  to  the  sand- 
dunes;  there  were  no  casualties.  Undaunted,  we 
kept  on,  taking  care  this  time  to  get  nearer  up. 
The  enemy  were  beginning  to  tire  by  this  time,  so 
putting  in  a  fresh  tray  of  ammunition,  our  courage- 
ous marksman  let  fly,  with  excellent  results,  three 
of  the  rearguard  speeding  headlong  down  to  the 
earth.  The  pangs  of  a  not  unnatural  hunger  now 
beginning  to  make  themselves  evident,  and  finding 
ourselves  some  thirty  miles  from  home,  we  turned 
her  head  for  home  and  there  eventually  arrived, 
happy  and  hungry,  after  having  set  a  new  fashion 
in  sporting  and  aviation  circles,  and  discovered 
a  new  form  of  amusement  and  speculation  for 
the  blase  ones,  who  had  deserted  their  card-tables 
and  cheap  French  novelettes  to  welcome  us  on  our 
return. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  BALLOON-TRIP  BY  NIGHT 

Imagine  a  great  bare  meadow-land,  lonely, 
wind-swept,  and  dark  with  inky  blackness,  out  of 
which  there  plunges  an  occasional  hurrying  figure, 
that  misses  one  by  inches  and  passes  on  with  a 
muttered  oath.  In  the  background,  tall  and  sinis- 
ter, two  large  gasometers.  In  the  center  of  the 
field  a  wide  tarpaulin  laid  along  the  ground,  and 
edged  by  a  circle  of  sand-bags,  from  the  midst  of 
which  there  rises  a  great  round  shape,  like  a  mam- 
moth tomato. 

It  is  the  balloon  not  yet  fully  inflated,  fed  by  two 
curling  rubber  tubes,  that  disappear  in  the  direction 
of  the  gasworks.  We  are  waiting,  waiting  pa- 
tiently until  she  fills.  Blackened,  distorted  shapes, 
that  stand  around  in  eerie  circle,  and  at  the  sudden 
gruff  command  of  a  hoarse  voice  that  booms  ever 
and  anon  out  of  the  voids  of  darkness,  seize  each 
a  heavy  sandbag  and  slowly  and  clumsily  lower  it 
mesh  by  mesh  in  the  netting  that  covers  the 
balloon. 

At  last  she  is  filled.  The  car  is  attached  below, 
as  rapidly  and  securely  as  the  faint  and  flickering 

85 


86  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

light  of  a  stable  lamp  will  allow  of.  The  crew 
tumble  in,  one  on  top  of  another.  She  is  let  up 
only  to  be  pulled  down  again  with  a  nerve-racking 
bump.  The  gruff  voice  decides  that  she  is  now 
ready  to  get  off;  there  is  a  slight  slackening  of 
ropes,  an  almost  imperceptible  lift,  the  figures  on 
the  ground  recede  rapidly,  grotesque  shadows  in 
the  darkness,  and  the  lights  begin  to  disappear  one 
by  one. 

We  rise  to  a  ticklish  situation;  there  are  tall 
trees,  factory-chimneys,  and  protruding  roofs  all 
waiting  calm  and  invisible  in  the  night,  to  be 
crashed  into  and  collided  with.  But  all  these 
obstacles  we  may  miss  if  we  have  only  sufficient 
preparatory  lift.  We  are  all  silent  and  cowed, 
trying  to  make  out  each  other's  faces.  There  is 
a  sudden  tearing  sound.  The  craft  lurches  like  a 
drunken  man  and  we  are  thrown  a  struggling 
breathless  mass  into  a  corner.  But  the  suspense  is 
only  momentary.  By  a  miracle  of  grace,  she  frees 
herself  from  the  branches  of  a  tree,  and  soars 
rapidly  heavenwards. 

Eagerly  we  watch  the  glimmering,  winding 
streak  of  gray  that  is  the  river,  and  our  only 
visible  landmark;  apparently  we  are  making  off  in 
a  north  and  west  direction.  Once  out  of  the 
shelter  of  the  houses  and  the  trees,  the  breeze  is 
stiffish:  in  fact,  considerably  more  so  than  was  ex- 
pected. 


A  BALLOON-TRIP  BY  NIGHT  87 

What  is  this  sensation  like  ?  Dark  to  the  left 
of  us,  dark  to  the  right  of  us,  dark  on  top  of  us, 
and  darker  below  us;  in  a  frail  uncontrollable 
craft,  that  drifts  aimlessly  and  helplessly  before 
every  varying  wind  of  the  heavens.  Unlike  the 
aeroplane  the  passage  is  easy  and  pleasant,  free 
from  noise  and  we  know  we  are  flying.  North  and 
west,  but  the  first  change  of  the  wind,  and  we 
will  be  bowling  along  merrily  in  quite  another 
direction. 

It  is  quiet,  intensely  quiet,  no  motion  of  any 
kind  to  be  felt.  But  where  are  we  ?  Occasionally 
we  discover  a  small  patch  of  light  that  may  be  a 
village,  again  a  larger  patch,  evidently  of  a  town. 
We  watch  the  altimeter  with  as  much  loving  care, 
as  a  mother  would  her  child,  for  it  is  our  sole 
deliverer  from  destruction.  How  it  varies:  now 
it  is  8000  feet,  now  2500.  If  possible,  we  try  to 
keep  above  the  latter  level.  The  surface  of  the 
country  is  unfortunately  not  too  level,  and  as  the 
altimeter  registers  height  above  sea  and  not  land 
level,  allowance  must  be  made.  Ballast  is  ready 
to  hand  for  emergency  uses. 

At  last  the  depressing  silence  is  broken;  one 
youth,  wiser  than  his  years,  has  remembered  to 
provide  himself  with  food.  It  is  handed  round, 
and  over  beef  sandwiches  we  get  communicative. 
It  gives  us  fresh  life  and  inspires  one  of  the  party 
with  a  humorous  turn  of  mind,  to  recite  with  great 


88  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

vividness  and  vivacity  all  the  alarming  accidents 
that  have  befallen  night-balloonisis,  concluding 
with  an  impious  hope,  "that  we  likewise  may  have 
some  fun." 

We  get  it! 

Happily,  as  we  are  wallowing  in  the  throes  of 
this  most  dismal  expectancy,  the  conversation  is 
turned  by  an  eager  and  heated  discussion  between 
two  younger  members  of  the  party,  as  to  the  merits 
and  demerits  of  their  respective  musical-comedy 
idols  (female) .  The  argument  grows  in  intensity. 
But  we  have  neglected  to  watch  the  altimeter.  Out 
of  the  inky  darkness  below  there  rushes  a  volcano 
of  spark  and  flame.  It  is  a  railway-train  speeding 
on  through  the  night.  Sheepishly  we  discover  that 
we  are  only  800  feet,  and  wonder  unpleasantly 
what  might  have  been. 

On  and  on  through  the  night.  Now  we  are 
getting  tired ;  there  are  suggestions  that  we  should 
land,  but  they  are  overruled.  Coming  down  again 
to  800  feet,  we  catch  sight  of  a  wide  glimmering 
sheet  of  water.  Maps  are  seized  in  a  hasty  impulse 
to  guess  our  whereabouts.  The  argument  grows 
heated,  for  similar  stretches  of  water  there  are, 
alike  in  Essex,  Kent,  Surrey,  Middlesex  and  Berk- 
shire :  In  fact,  in  every  one  of  the  Home  Counties, 
and  for  the  matter  of  that  in  the  Midlands,  and 
likewise  in  every  county  in  England,  Scotland,  Ire- 
land and  Wales. 


A  BALLOON-TRIP  BY  NIGHT         89 

The  argument  abates,  our  eyes  grow  weary  and 
more  weary.  It  seems  a  life-time  since  we  last 
saw  the  pleasant  and  undulating  lines  of  the  earth. 
One  or  two  heads  are  already  nodding,  when  there 
is  a  sudden  shout  of  "the  dawn."  Instantly  all 
are  wide  awake.  There  sure  enough,  are  the  first 
few  streaks  of  gray  creeping  slowly  across  the  east- 
ern sky ;  without  even  that,  it  would  be  an  obvious 
matter,  by  reason  of  that  intense  cold,  which,  in 
the  air,  always  precedes  the  hour  of  daybreak  and 
freezes  us  to  the  bone. 

It  would  be  an  inadequate  expression  to  say  that 
dawn  in  the  air  is  beautiful.  It  is  more  than 
beautiful,  it  is  wonderful.  It  is  more  than  won- 
derful, it  is  unusual;  a  view  only  to  be  enjoyed 
by  the  minority,  and  that  of  the  smallest.  Gradu- 
ally earth  and  sky  begin  to  dissemble.  In  tint  the 
picture  is  white,  black,  gray,  blue,  crimson,  golden, 
purple,  green  and  every  other  color — now  like 
a  painter's  canvas  smudged  with  regular  irregulari- 
ties, edged  with  red  and  gray,  now  an  animated 
panorama  stirring  with  resuscitated  life.  The  sun 
rises,  a  ball  of  flame  above  the  horizon,  lighting  up 
the  rotund  shape  of  the  balloon  with  an  unearthly 
hue. 

We  say  nothing,  but  look  and  marvel;  a  word 
would  be  out  of  place  in  this  sacred  and  awesome 
stillness.  Suddenly  we  are  roused  by  a  cry,  more, 
much  more,  alarming  than  the  last. 


90  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

The  seal  We  are  almost  on  top  of  It.  In 
shimmering,  level  surface  it  stretches  on  into  ob- 
scurity. We  are  lost.  We  cannot  avoid  it,  yet 
less  can  we  land  thereon.  One  of  the  crew  loses 
his  head.  He  snatches  the  thin  red  tape  that  hangs 
down  from  the  envelope.  There  is  a  tearing, 
rending  sound. 

He  has  ripped  the  balloon  at  2000  feet.  Pious 
prayers  and  curses  intermingle.  Down  she  sinks, 
with  a  great  hole  rent  in  her  side — down  and 
down,  faster  and  faster.  Over  go  the  bags  of  bal- 
last, one  after  another.  Now  all  have  been 
dropped.  She  slackens  speed;  but  only  momentar- 
ily. Down  she  goes  again,  the  upward  current  of 
air  whistles  unpleasantly  through  the  rigging.  In 
a  last  feverish  effort  boots  are  unlaced  and  hurled 
overboard,  together  with  coats  and  every  portable 
object  to  hand. 

Too  late.  We  hit  the  edge  of  a  cliff;  bounce 
back  several  feet  into  the  air,  then  sink  down  on  to 
the  beach  below.  Another  crash,  again  we  are 
bundled  and  bounced  about  in  the  confined  space 
of  the  car.  The  sand  gets  in  our  ears  and  eyes 
and  mouths.  The  balloon  lies  along  the  sand  a 
woebegotten  shape,  as  flat  as  a  pancake.  When 
we  eventually  sort  ourselves  out,  we  find  luckily, 
that  there  is  but  one  casualty:  a  broken  wrist,  sus- 
tained by  the  foolish  Idiot  that  ripped  I  Just 
retribution ! 


A  BALLOON-TRIP  BY  NIGHT         91 

And  to  end  the  adventure,  a  stolid  British  po- 
liceman, ponderous  official-looking  note-book  in 
hand,  approaches  and  demands  our  names  and  ad- 
dresses, and  asks  if  we  are  of  British  nationality  I 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WOOD 

Flanders, 
Wednesday. 

Somewhere  In  the  north  of  France  there  is  a 
little  wood.  It  is  about  half  a  mile  square  in  area, 
and  stands  immediately  south  of  a  fine,  broad 
highroad,  along  which  there  daily  pass  large  bod- 
ies of  reinforcements,  infantry  and  cavalry,  and 
convoys  bringing  up  ammunition  and  supplies. 
The  tall  trees  offer  a  welcome  shade  in  the  hot 
weather,  and  it  was  the  custom  for  passing  troops 
to  halt  there  for  a  short  time ;  and  just  at  the  spot 
the  roadside  was  always  well  littered  with  broken 
bottles.  Needless  to  state,  it  was  In  German 
territory. 

However,  had  It  not  been  for  that  road,  and  for 
the  fact  that  on  this  certain  day,  when  the  road 
had  been  closed  to  all  traffic,  there  wer«^certaln 
mysterious  movements  of  ponderous  great  wag- 
ons, suspiciously  like  ammunition  wagons,  which 

92 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WOOD      93 

halted  in  the  shade  of  the  wood,  this  story  would 
never  have  been  written. 

The  day  was  hot,  and  the  work  was  heavy,  and 
mein  herr  captain  paused  for  a  moment  to  curse 
his  uncongenial  task,  and  take  a  long  draught  from 
his  water  bottle,  of  some  liquor  that  certainly  was 
not  water.  In  the  midst  thereof  he  let  it  fall 
with  a  curse  of  rage  and  surprise,  for  there  over- 
head, as  if  it  had  suddenly  appeared  from  the 
clouds,  was  the  form  of  a  British  aeroplane. 
"Himmel,"  he  exclaimed,  "all  our  trouble  wasted, 
they  have  our  hiding  spot  discovered,  and  to- 
morrow morning  they  bomb  us — ach!" 

The  worthy  gentleman  was  not  far  out  in  his 
deduction,  for  the  lynx-eye  of  the  observer  in  the 
aeroplane  had  carefully  noted  the  exact  geograph- 
ical position  of  that  new  ammunition  park,  before 
the  machine  sped  off  homewards.  But  he  was 
wrong  to  a  certain  extent;  our  Flying  Corps  are 
no  fools,  and  they  realized  that  Mr.  Bosche  would 
soon  expect  a  return  visit,  and  would  be  fully  pre- 
pared therefor.  This  course  was,  therefore,  use- 
less to  them ;  it  was  essential  that  that  ammunition 
park  must  be  destroyed,  but  in  a  manner  and  at  a 
time  the  Germans  least  expected,  and  this  is  how 
it  was  accomplished. 

Towards  evening  a  light  scouting  machine  sped 
swiftly  away  from  a  certain  British  aerodrome, 
only  a  few  miles  behind  the  firing  lines.     No  un- 


94  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

toward  incident  that,  but  it  was  particularly  con- 
spicuous from  the  fact  that  the  entire  aerodrome 
had  turned  out  to  wish  the  trip  God-speed,  to  wish 
the  pilot,  a  young  second  Lieutenant  of  the  Cana- 
dian Infantry,  the  best  of  luck,  and  to  cram  the 
fuselage  of  the  machine  with  spare  ammunition, 
until  she  could  barely  "stagger"  off  the  ground. 
The  objective  was  the  ammunition  park  already 
mentioned.  With  long,  sweeping  circles  the  scout 
soon  cleared  the  area  of  the  jfiring  lines,  and  ar- 
rived over  the  wood. 

Still  nothing  happened,  the  whole  countryside 
was  remarkably  quiet  for  a  battle  area.  No  anti- 
aircraft guns  fired,  no  enemy  aircraft  came  hum- 
ming round.  Lower  came  the  pilot  to  investigate. 
Still  nothing  happened;  he,  on  his  part,  now  began 
to  feel  genuinely  alarmed,  unless  of  course  that 
confounded  observer  had  been  "seeing"  things, 
a  not  unknown  failing  with  aeroplane  observers. 

Meanwhile  in  the  midst  of  the  wood,  the  cor- 
pulent captain  watched  the  small  speck  carefully 
with  his  glasses,  then  rubbed  his  fat  hands  with 
glee  and  expectation.  The  fool  Englishman  was 
falling  beautifully  into  his  little  trap.  Involun- 
tarily he  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  and  there  in 
a  large  clearing  behind  the  wood,  were  ten  great 
German  battle-planes,  all  ready  to  go  up  at  a 
moment's  notice  and  with  pilots  and  observers 
standing  by. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WOOD      95 

By  this  time  the  British  machine  had  come 
considerably  lower,  and  was  well  behind  the  wood, 
and  into  the  German  country.  The  captain  gave 
a  sharp,  guttural  order.  Immediately  the  noise 
of  ten  great  propellers  smote  the  still  air,  and  the 
squadron  rose  swiftly  from  the  wood  like  a  covey 
of  wild  ducks.  The  hated  Englishman  was  hope- 
lessly trapped. 

And  what  of  our  man?  Turning  leisurely  to 
make  a  last  reconnaissance  of  the  wood,  he  found 
ten  great  German  battle-planes  between  himself 
and  the  lines.  He  cursed  profusely  at  his  own 
crass  stupidity.  He  had  been  warned,  and  he  had 
thought  fit  to  ignore  the  warning,  and  this  was  the 
result.  Anyway  he  would  make  a  good  fight  for 
it.  He  fingered  his  machine-gun  cautiously.  Yes, 
everything  was  ready  to  hand.  He  set  his  teeth, 
opened  his  engine  "full  out"  and  began  to  climb 
rapidly. 

The  Germans  also  climbed,  and  within  a  very 
short  space  of  time  he  found  himself  hemmed  in 
on  all  sides,  with  lead  flying  at  him  from  all  points, 
and  at  all  angles.  Anyhow,  he  determnied  to  have 
a  good  run  for  his  life,  and  singling  out  two  Ger- 
mans immediately  beneath  him,  he  dived  rapidly. 
As  he  did  so,  he  was  hit  by  shrapnel ;  for  a  short 
space  of  time  he  was  unconscious,  then  again  re- 
gaining control  of  his  machine,  began  to  use  his 
machine-gun  to  good  effect. 


96  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR    . 

First  one  German  he  drove  to  the  ground,  then 
another,  and  then  a  third.  His  blood  was  up  now, 
and  he  turned  round  for  further  victims,  but  the 
Huns  had  had  sufficient  for  one  day,  and  were 
scuttling  off  to  peace  and  safety.  He  turned 
homewards,  and  his  wound  was  becoming  agoniz- 
ing, as  a  bombing  squadron  of  our  own  machines 
passed  by. 

Very  soon  there  arose  from  the  wood  violent 
explosions  and  blinding  sheets  of  flame,  and  by 
the  time  the  British  bombing  squadron  had  fin- 
ished Its  full  design,  all  that  remained  of  the  fat 
captain's  ammunition  park  were  a  few  broken  and 
shattered  wagons,  and  a  heap  of  dead  and  dying 
men. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   TIGHT  CORNER 

Somewhere  in  France, 

Friday. 

The  other  day,  yesterday  afternoon  to  be  exact, 
a  most  exciting  adventure  befell  me.  I  was  de- 
tailed to  take  part  in  a  bombing  raid  at .    We 

had  not  proceeded  far  beyond  our  own  lines, 
after  the  customary  bombardment  of  anti-aircraft 
shells,  when  suddenly  the  machine  immediately  in 
front  of  us  rocked  violently,  and  began  to  dive 
towards  the  earth.  "B 's  been  hit,"  my  observ- 
er bawled  into  my  ear.  I  continued  to  watch  the 
machine  in  its  headlong  descent.  Alas,  it  was  only 
too  true  I  There  was  no  possible  escape :  after 
diving  steeply  six  hundred  feet,  the  machine  had 
begun  to  spin,  and  was  now  whirling  round  and 
round  like  a  humming-top,  and  hardly  a  minute 
after,  had  crashed  into  the  midst  of  a  wood,  from 
which  there  immediately  came  up  a  cloud  of  gray 
smoke  and  a  leaping  tongue  of  flame. 

We  had  started  out  four  strong;  our  mission 
97 


98  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

being  to  raid  M ,  a  large  German  military 

center,  containing  a  staff  headquarters,  an  ammu- 
nition park,  and  a  large  aerodrome.  And  now  our 
machine  was  the  sole  survivor,  two  having  been 
shot  down  when  crossing  the  lines.  Alone  and 
single-handed,  in  a  notoriously  dangerous  portion 
of  the  enemy's  lines,  every  moment  we  were  liable 
to  be  fired  at  from  all  quarters,  and  attacked  by 
enemy  aircraft. 

I  looked  searchingly  at  my  observer;  it  was  his 
first  trip  across  the  lines,  and  I  had  to  admit  to 
myself  that  never  before,  in  my  six  months  of 
flying  at  the  front,  had  I  been  in  such  a  deucedly 
uncomfortable  position.  How  would  he  take  It? 
I  hesitated.  Should  we  turn  back  to  safety,  or 
should  we  continue  on  our  way  to  what  was  almost 
certain  death?  I  glanced  at  his  face,  it  was  stern 
and  set,  with  the  deliberation  of  the  man  who  Is 
willing  to  risk  everything.  With  his  left  hand 
he  patted  and  fondled  the  deadly  machine-gun.  I 
determined  to  go  on. 

Then  they  opened  fire  on  us  again.  Apparently 
for  the  last  few  minutes  they  had  all  deserted  their 
guns  and  had  been  busy  gaping  at  the  remains  of 

poor  B 's  machine ;  but  now,  flushed  with  their 

recent  success,  they  commenced  to  fire  with  de- 
moniacal fury.  Shots  burst  behind,  before,  above, 
below :  one  minute  immediately  over  the  nose,  the 
next  Immediately  beneath  the  tail  of  the  machine. 


A  TIGHT  CORNER  99 

To  avoid  them  we  climbed,  and  dived,  and  banked 
in  all  directions,  until  her  old  ribs  began  to  groan 
and  creak  from  sheer  exertion,  and  she  threatened 
every  moment  to  fly  asunder  in  mid-air.  At  last 
we  got  clear  of  them,  and  sighted  our  objective, 
just  as  the  sun  broke  through  the  clouds,  and 
revealed  to  us  a  stretch  of  low,  flat-lying  country, 
dotted  here  and  there  with  villages  and  camps  and 

ammunition  bases.     M showed  up  easily,  it 

was  a  moderate-sized  town  of  ant-like  pigmy 
dwellings,  little  white  and  gray  patches  in  the  bril- 
liant sunlight.  A  small  winding  river  skirted  the 
town,  looking  for  all  the  world  against  the  dark 
background  like  the  vein  In  a  man*s  arm.  North 
and  south  ran  the  gleaming,  glinting  railway  lines, 
and  a  large  road  led  up  from  the  town  to  the  firing 
line.  This  road  was  now  converged  with  traffic  of 
all  descriptions.  We  dropped  a  bomb,  but  it  was 
very  wide  of  the  mark,  and  it  served  to  draw  the 
enemy's  fire,  which  again  broke  out  all  round  us 

with  renewed  fury.     M was  better  supplied 

with  anti-aircraft  guns  than  any  other  position  on 
the  German  front.  Higher  and  yet  higher  we 
climbed  until  we  were  well  above  the  clouds,  and 
the  earth  was  almost  hidden  from  our  sight.  By 
this  simple  and  expedient  ruse  de  guerre  we  might 
be  able  to  get  over  the  city  before  the  gunners 
were  aware  of  our  existence.  But  alas  for  our 
well  laid  plans  I    We  had  not  gone  far  when  we 


100         THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

encountered  a  great  double-engined  Albatross, 
and  there,  with  the  white  billowy  clouds  stretching 
like  waves  of  a  gigantic  sea  in  all  directions,  we 
fought  our  battle  of  life  and  death.  Fritz  opened 
the  encounter  by  sweeping  down  upon  us  at  top 
speed,  pouring  out  a  steady  stream  of  lead  from 
the  machine-gun  in  the  nose  of  his  machine.  To 
avoid  this  we  climbed  rapidly,  and  he  flashed  by, 
beneath  us,  at  an  alarming  rate.  We  attempted  to 
bomb  him,  but  it  was  futile,  and  the  bomb  fell 
downwards  to  the  earth  below. 

We  turned  as  soon  as  were  able,  and  waited  for 
the  enemy  to  recommence  the  attack.  He  was  all 
out  now,  and  putting  on  top  speed  bore  down  upon 
us  with  the  speed  of  an  express  train.  Nearer  and 
yet  nearer  he  drew.  Thankfully  I  noticed  that  we 
were  both  at  the  same  altitude.  When  yet  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  his  observer  opened 
fire,  the  bullets  flying  all  around  us  in  a  leaden 
stream,  and  still  we  did  not  reply.  I  looked  at  my 
observer.  He  was  bending  over  his  gun,  fumbling 
about  with  some  portion  of  the  mechanism.  There 
was  no  need  to  ask  what  was  the  matter.  Alas! 
I  knew  too  well.  The  gun  had  jammed.  Now 
followed  a  ticklish  time  for  both  of  us,  for  with- 
out the  gun  we  were  completely  unarmed,  and 
Fritz  was  drawing  nearer  every  second.  Already 
I  could  hear  and  feel  his  bullets  singing  past  my 
head,  occasionally  chipping  portions  of  the  ma- 


A  TIGHT  CORNER  loi 

chine.  Now  he  was  right  level  with  us.  What 
were  we  to  do  ?  To  remain  in  that  same  position 
would  mean  certain  death.  If  we  climbed,  he 
would  climb  faster,  and  would  almost  immediately 
be  up  with  us  again.  There  was  only  one  thing  to 
be  done — the  unexpected!  So  putting  her  nose- 
down,  we  dived  towards  the  earth  like  a  stone,  and 
had  gone  over  a  thousand  feet  before  I  could  get 
her  level  again.  This  maneuver  so  upset  the  calcu- 
lations of  the  enemy,  that  he  was  now  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  distant.  This  gave  us  precious 
time  to  prepare  again  for  the  attack.  The  observ- 
er was  still  working  feverishly  away,  when  we 
commenced  to  climb.  Fritz  had  already  turned 
and  was  coming  down  to  meet  us;  but  we  had  the 
advantage  this  time  of  having  the  wind  behind  our 
backs.  If  only  that  infernal  gun  were  ready  I  Up 
we  climbed,  and  down  came  Fritz;  all  the  faster 
because  he  knew  we  were  comparatively  unarmed. 
Now  we  were  under  half  a  mile  distant,  now  only 
a  quarter,  and  now  he  had  commenced  to  fire. 
Would  we  never  reply?  At  lastl  BrrrI  Brrr! 
Brrr !  yapped  the  gun  in  our  bows. 

Fritz  was  so  startled  at  this  unexpected  develop- 
ment that  for  a  moment  he  paused  in  his  firing. 
This    was   our    opportunity;   taking   steady   aim 

J put  the  whole  drum  of  47  cartridges  into 

his  back  in  three  bursts.  He  staggered  and  reeled, 
he  was  hit;  I  felt  I  wanted  to  cry  out  for  sheer 


102  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

joy,  but  my  throat  was  parched  and  dry.  Oh !  the 
reaction  after  that  dreadful  ten  minutes.  But  al- 
though we  had  hit  him,  Fritz  was  yet  by  no  means 
out  of  running,  that  is  if  he  elected  to  remain  and 
fight  it  out,  which  I  doubted  extremely;  for  the 
Hun  is  ever  super-courageous  when  he  has  an  un- 
armed and  helpless  foe  to  deal  with.  So  throttling 
her  down  I  watched  him  anxiously.  Turning  to 
the  left  he  started  off  at  top  speed  in  the  direction 
of  his  own  base.  This  I  had  expected,  and  off  we 
started  in  his  trail  with  only  another  half-hour's 
petrol  in  our  tanks.  On  and  on  he  flew,  over  wood 
and  town,  and  we  were  close  in  the  rear,  both  flying 
at  top  speed.  Every  moment  he  was  getting 
lower.  I  knew  only  too  well  what  that  meant.  He 
was  trying  to  lead  us  into  a  trap,  where  we  would 
make  a  set  target  for  a  ring  of  his  anti-aircraft 
guns.  We  must  never  let  this  happen  or  we  should 
be  finished  for  a  certainty.  If  we  could  only  catch 
up  with  him ;  but  it  was  in  vain  we  wished,  for  he 
was  yet  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead,  when,  as  usual, 
the  unexpected  happened.  He  had  engine  trouble. 
Within  five  minutes  we  were  almost  on  top  of  him. 
He  commenced  to  sink  like  a  stone.  Now  was 
*  our  opportunity,  an  opportunity  which  our  ob- 
server was  not  slow  to  take  advantage  of.  Right 
into  the  middle  of  his  back  flew  the  steady  stream 
of  bullets.  Again  he  reeled,  and  this  time  there 
was  that  peculiar  fluttering  of  the  wings,  which 


A  TIGHT  CORNER  103 

tells  only  too  plainly  that  an  aeroplane  is  "out  of 

control."      Like  poor  B he  commenced  to 

whirl  round  like  a  humming-top,  then  with  one 
long  last  plunge  he  had  crashed  into  one  of  his 
own  encampments,  and  all  was  over. 

We  were  left  to  reach  our  own  lines  with  twenty 
minutes'  petrol  remaining,  and  under  a  violent 
bombardment  of  the  enemy  "Archies." 

***** 
Again  an  interesting  personal  account,  told  in 
the  words  of  the  pilot  participating  in  a  Zepp 
Strafe : — 

The  orderly  from  the  telephone  room  brought 

the  news.  Zeppelins  had  been  sighted  at and 

were  proceeding  in  a  northerly  direction.  This 
meant  that  they  would  be  overhead  at  any 
moment. 

A  few  sharp  orders  and  the  station  began  to 
throb  with  life. 

Mechanics  hurried  hither  and  thither,  some  to 
the  sheds  to  get  out  the  machine,  others  to  fetch 
the  bombs  and  a  Very's  pistol  from  the  armory; 
yet  others  to  lay  out  the  light  flares  across  the 
aerodrome  in  order  that  upon  our  return  we  might 
perchance  be  able  to  define  the  right  landing 
ground. 

Compasses,  electric  light  torches  and  maps  were 
dragged    hurriedly   from   their   hiding-places    in 


104         THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

lockers.  A  general  bearing  was  taken  of  the 
enemy's  course,  and  we  ran  out  on  to  the  aero- 
drome, where  a  searchlight  had  already  begun  to 
work,  sending  long,  scintillating  beams  of  light 
across  the  dark  night  sky,  turning  and  twisting, 
first  in  one  quarter,  then  in  another,  covering  the 
heavens  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  but  never  dis- 
closing the  true  object  of  its  search. 

At  last  there  is  a  shout  from  one  of  the  men  by 
the  light.  He  had  discovered  the  whereabouts  of 
the  Zeppelin.  Yes  I  there  she  is!  A  long,  gray, 
cigar-shaped  object  far  up  in  the  clouds. 

We  hurried  across  to  the  machine,  and  while  I 
examined  the  bombs  in  the  bomb-rack  beneath  the 
fuselage  (body),  and  attended  to  the  fitting-in  of 
the  Lewis-gun,  the  pilot  tested  the  engine.  And 
before  five  minutes  had  elapsed  since  the  first 
alarm  we  were  off  the  ground. 

Who  can  well  and  truly  describe  the  sensations 
of  night  flying?  Suddenly  one  is  hurled  from  the 
ground  into  an  unbounded  space  of  darkness  at  the 
rate  of  fifty  miles  an  hour.  It  is  like  jumping  off 
a  cliff  on  a  dark  night  and  plunging  on  and  on,  one 
knows  not  where.  It  is  impossible  to  see  beyond 
one's  nose,  and  the  only  thing  that  seems  real  and 
natural  is  the  incessantly  loud  hum  of  the  engine. 
It  is  a  by  no  means  pleasant  task. 

Leaving  the  ground  we  miss  a  roof-top  by 
inches,   and,   feeling  considerably  shaken,   climb 


A  TIGHT  CORNER  105 

rapidly.  At  first  it  is  dark,  pitch  dark.  We  see 
nothing,  we  know  not  where  we  are.  One  would 
lose  one's  reason  were  it  not  for  the  hum  of  the 
racing  engine. 

At  last  there  breaks  through  the  long  shadows 
of  darkness,  beneath  us,  a  long,  narrow,  winding 
ribbon  of  shimmering  gray.  The  young  moon  has 
broken  through  the  clouds  and  the  reflection  of  its 
light  upon  the  water  gives  us  the  position  of  the 
river.  On  either  side  or  moving  slowly  along  the 
surface  are  small  pin-pricks  of  colored  lights;  I 
switch  on  my  electric  light  in  front  of  the  observ- 
er's seat,  glance  at  the  altimeter,  and  discover 
that  we  are  already  500  feet  up. 

The  glare  of  that  light,  feeble  though  it  be  when 
contrasted  with  the  black  darkness  of  the  at- 
mosphere around,  has  got  into  my  eyes,  and  for  a 
moment  or  two  I  can  distinguish  absolutely  noth- 
ing. Then  lights  begin  to  make  themselves  visi- 
ble. 

The  street  lamps  can  easily  be  distinguished;  as 
being  darkened  at  the  top  the  light  is  concentrated 
downwards  in  a  circle  onto  the  pavement  beneath, 
which  serves  the  purpose  of  reflecting  it  heaven- 
wards and  upwards.  The  main  streets  can  be 
picked  out  by  the  two  parallel  lines  of  colored 
lights;  the  windows  of  shops,  the  lights  of  which 
have  been  covered  with  red  and  green  shades. 

I  have  another  look  at  the  altimeter.     Only  a 


io6  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

thousand,  but  still  climbing  steadily.  Into  a  dark 
bare  patch  of  land  far  below  there  comes  rushing 
a  flaring,  glaring  gleam  of  light,  followed  by  a 
string  of  smaller  lights.  I  puzzle  out  what  this 
strange  apparition  may  be.     It  is  a  railway  train. 

As  we  mount  yet  higher  we  begin  to  lose  all  our 
bearings,  and  all  sight  of  the  earth  beneath.  A 
much  more  beautiful  earth  when  compared  with 
the  dull,  prosaic  everyday  affair,  looking  for  all 
the  world  like  a  huge  garden  decorated  with  a 
myriad  of  multi-colored  lights.  It  is  difficult  to 
realize  that  those  few,  straggling,  irregular  rows 
of  lamps  encompass  seven  million  living  souls; 
that  there  far  below  us  sleepily  blinking  and 
twinkling  is  the  greatest  city  of  the  world. 

The  altimeter  registers  5000  ft.  Getting 
nearer  to  the  Zepp  altitude,  yet  no  sign!  The 
anxiety  of  waiting  and  suspense  is  becoming  insuf- 
ferable. Nothing  but  the  Incessant  throb  of  the 
engine.  But  I  have  spoken  too  soon !  Out  of  the 
darkness  and  blackness  there  rushes  past,  with 
the  speed  of  an  express  train,  a  black  unholy  shape. 

Suddenly  there  is  the  most  violent  cannonade; 
a  sure  sign  that  the  anti-aircraft  gunners  have 
spotted  their  quarry.  Searchlights  from  all  direc- 
tions are  in  a  second  of  time  concentrated  upon 
ourselves,  while  they  are  endeavoring  to  get  the 
range.  This  latter,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the 
pilot,  who,  blinded  by  the  glare,  banks  too  steeply. 


A  TIGHT  CORNER  107 

just  in  time  saves  her  from  a  nose-dive,  and  con- 
signs all  anti-aircraft  gunners  to  a  certain  well- 
known  locality  possessed  of  a  permanent  and  ex- 
tremely warm  climate. 

We  are  in  luck's  way,  however;  for  presently 
the  guns  are  all  silenced.  The  searchlights  go  out 
one  by  one.  All  becomes  quiet  and  dark,  dismally 
dark.  We  cruise  around  for  another  ten  minutes 
or  so,  then  descend  cautiously  and  gradually. 
With  one  eye  glued  to  the  altimeter,  to  make 
certain  of  the  height,  I  peer  over  the  side  with 
the  other  to  pick  up  the  first  sign  of  lights  or 
landmarks. 

Eight  thousand  feet!  Seven  thousand  feet! 
Getting  horribly  cold  I  Six  thousand  I  Five  thou- 
sand! Shall  we  never  get  down?  Four  thousand  I 
Three  thousand !  it  seems  like  an  age.  Two  thou- 
sand! One  thousand!  Cautiously  now  or  our 
necks  will  be  broken ! 

At  last  we  are  safe  back  on  Mother  Earth 
again,  and  very  thankfully  seek  the  refuge  of  our 
beds! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN  AIR  FIGHT  WITH  A  HUN 

Somewhere  in  the  North  of  France, 

Saturday. 

Today  our  special  delight  has  been  a  bombard- 
ment from  enemy  aeroplanes. 

They  came  over  about  noon  and  roused  the  fear- 
ful and  subdued  the  proud  while  we  were  all  at 
lunch.  They  circled  overhead  for  about  five 
minutes,  dropped  a  dozen  or  so  bombs,  then 
cleared  off  hurriedly  before  our  own  men  had  time 
to  get  away. 

One  man  here  had  a  most  Ingenious  "funkhole" 
for  aerial  bombardment.  He  utilized  a  large  stone 
drain-pipe  for  this  purpose,  and  It  was  his  custom 
when  enemy  aircraft  were  reported  to  be  In  sight 
to  crawl  into  this  thing,  take  a  book  with  him, 
and  calmly  read  until  they  had  taken  their  de- 
parture. He  advertised  this  comic  shelter  one 
day  as : — 

"A  novel  bijou  residence,  completely  detached, 
every  convenience,  within  easy  reach  of  the  firing 

lo8 


AN  AIR  FIGHT  WITH  A  HUN     109 

line.    Bullets  and  bombs  pass  the  door  every  few 
moments." 

Figuratively  speaking,  our  mission  was  target- 
registering. 

But  having  previously  heard  that  the  "mother" 
(naval  9  :2-inch  gun)  with  which  we  were  to  have 
worked  was  incapacitated,  and  the  afternoon  being 
fine  and  sunny,  we  determined  to  seek  adventure 
further  afield,  and  turning  her  nose  in  a  south- 
easterly direction  kept  straight  on. 

"Am  making  for  Dixmude  to  see  if  we  can 
raise  a  Hun  or  two." 

This  latter  by  means  of  a  note  passed  over  my 
shoulder  by  the  pilot.  And  here  let  it  be  said  that 
a  proper  understanding  between  pilot  and  observer 
is  one  of  the  essential  features  of  war  flying.  What 
the  latter  misses  the  former  often  picks  up,  for 
when  flying  at  high  altitudes  of  over  10,000  feet, 
field-glasses  for  observation  purposes,  with  the 
excessive  vibration  of  the  engine,  are  at  first  very 
diflicult  to  manipulate. 

Our  machine,  one  of  the  latest  scouting  types, 
was  a  beauty.  She  climbed  rapidly  and  had  a  fast 
turn  of  speed  through  the  air,  concerning  which 
latter  feature  there  always  seems  to  exist  in  the 
lay  mind  a  deal  of  misapprehension,  especially  con- 
cerning the  possibilities  and  peculiarities  of  the 
various  types. 


no         THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

The  aeroplane  is  a  most  curious  and  difficult 
machine  to  build  up,  because  so  many  different 
factors  have  to  be  taken  into  consideration  in  the 
construction  of  it.  If  it  be  constructed  for  speed 
work,  it  necessitates  a  large  engine,  and  hence 
more  weight,  and  with  its  limited  "lifting"  capa- 
city, some  other  feature  has  to  be  sacrificed,  very 
probably  petrol-tanks,  thus  cutting  down  the  pos- 
sible duration  of  flight.  Similarly  speed  would 
have  to  be  sacrificed  for  duration. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  an  aeroplane  can  only 
specialize  in  one  feature  and  cannot  possess,  at 
one  and  the  same  time,  speed,  lift,  safety,  climbing 
power  and  long  durability. 

The  alpha  and  omega  of  the  adventure  was  that 
we  were  within  certain  limits  free  to  do  what  we 
pleased.  This  added  a  certain  amount  of  vim  and 
interest,  especially  so  when  compared  with  target- 
registering. 

As  we  sail  along  the  blue  sky  over  green  fields 
and  steepled  city,  my  eye  constantly  roams  round 
in  search  of  enemy  aircraft,  but  thus  far  with  not 
much  luck. 

The  firing  lines  are  now  far  behind  us,  and  we 
are  well  over  into  the  enemy's  country.  One 
would  have  thought  that  before  now  we  should 
have  encountered  a  stray  Aviatik  or  so,  or  a 
patrolling  Albatross. 

At  last  I     In  the  far  distance  and  coming  to- 


AN  AIR  FIGHT  WITH  A  HUN     iii 

wards  us  at  a  great  speed  "down-wind"  Is  a  white- 
nosed  machine,  which  I  distinguished  as  "Fritz," 
a  single  tractor  biplane,  a  hybrid  of  the  Albatross 
and  Aviatik  types,  fitted  with  a  225  h.p.  Mercedes 
engine,  that  gives  90  miles  per  hour.  It  has  a 
range  of  ten  hours'  flight,  and  carries  two  Maxim 
guns — one  in  front,  but  only  firing  sideways,  and 
one  behind  the  pilot. 

Immediately  thoughts  of  an  aerial  combat  flash 
across  my  mind.  I  had  never  taken  part  in  one 
before,  but  had  often  watched  them  from  the  com- 
fortable security  of  terra  firma:  during  that  first 
moment  I  had  a  bad  attack  of  "cold  feet." 

A  vision  of  many  a  hard-fought  battle  in  mid- 
air came  before  my  eyes.  With  the  opposing 
machines  darting  above  and  below  one  another 
like  two  great  birds,  the  sun  glistening  on  the 
whitened  planes  as  they  turned  and  twisted,  while 
all  around  and  silhouetted  against  the  deep  blue 
sky  were  the  little  black  and  flame  patches  of  the 
bursting  shrapnel,  it  was  a  gloriously  fascinating 
sight. 

The  uncertainty  held  one  spellbound.  Suddenly 
one  of  the  machines  would  put  down  her  nose  and 
descend  like  a  stone  to  earth;  for  a  moment  one's 
heart  was  In  one's  mouth  until  she  would  right 
herself  and  climb  up  again  into  the  fray.  Some- 
times these  wonderful  battles  would  last  as  long 
as  forty  minutes  or  an  hour,  until  one  or  the  other 


112  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

would  crash  down  thousands  of  feet  to  the  earth 
below. 

In  a  warfare  of  long-ranging  artillery,  and  the 
scientific  slaughter  of  an  invisible  foe  many  miles 
away  where  hand-to-hand  combat  was  practically 
unknown,  these  duels  in  mid-air  were  a  delight 
to  friend  and  foe  alike,  for  they,  and  they  alone, 
were  favored  with  the  old-time  romance  of  war, 
daring  and  adventure. 

Men  In  the  trenches  would  leave  their  rifles, 
forget  the  enemy,  and  gaze  with  wide-open  eyes 
at  what  was  going  on  overhead;  drivers  of  am- 
munition-wagons would  pause  on  their  way  in 
the  middle  of  the  road  craning  their  necks,  the 
while  red-hatted  staff-officers  would  order  their 
cars  to  be  stopped  until  the  fight  was  over. 

Those  two  little  black  specks,  suspended  thou- 
sands of  feet  above  were  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes, 
and  when  the  stricken  machine  came  low  enough 
for  her  nationality  to  be  distinguished,  if  it  were 
a  black  cross  on  either  wing  a  shout  of  sheer  joy 
would  burst  forth  from  many  an  anxious  heart; 
if  on  the  other  hand,  it  were  the  three  circles  of 
red,  white,  and  blue,  a  sigh  would  go  down  the 
lines  like  the  rustle  of  the  wind  through  the  trees. 

She  is  almost  up  to  us  by  this  time.  I  let  fire 
with  the  machine-gun,  but  she  is  still  beyond 
range.  Oh,  those  moments  of  expectation! 
Would  she  fight  or  turn  tail  and  run  ? 


AN  AIR  FIGHT  WITH  A  HUN      113 

She  elected  to  do  the  former  and  climbed  quickly 
above  us.  Her  pilot  opened  fire  with  his  machine- 
gun.  The  bullets  whizzed  past  our  ears,  dan- 
gerously near. 

We  climb  in  turn  and  lose  sight  of  her  for  a 
moment  or  so.  It  is  a  complicated  game  of  blind- 
man's  buff.  We  got  up  with  her  at  last  and  both 
let  off  simultaneously.  There  is  a  language  spoken 
in  that  act,  a  language  that  has  neither  stops,  com- 
mas, letters,  characters,  notes,  nor  images.  It  is 
the  language  of  unbounded  hate.  Hate  to  the 
death.  We  got  above  her  and  "down-wind"  this 
time.  Luck  is  on  our  side.  Another  tray  of  cafr- 
tridges  for  the  gun  quickly  I  That's  got  her.  She 
drops  sharply.  Her  pilot  must  have  been  hit  and 
lost  control  of  his  "joy-stick."  We  are  right  on 
top  of  her  now  and  let  the  whole  tray  of  muni- 
tions off  into  her  back. 

Suddenly  down  goes  her  nose.  She  rushes 
earthwards  with  a  very  fair  speed  to  waft  her  pilot 
to  paradise.  Faster  and  faster  she  travels. 
Fainter,  fainter  does  our  view  of  her  become  I 

Down  below  the  hundreds  are  waiting  anxious- 
ly, already  glorying  in  the  prize.  She's  down  at 
last  I 

Most  thankfully  we  turn  home. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  GREAT  RAID 

Somewhere  in  the  North  of  France, 

Monday. 

As  I  walked  across  the  aerodrome,  the  feeble 
rays  of  the  young  moon  were  dying  in  the  west. 
It  was  4.30  in  the  morning,  with  an  icy-cold  nor'- 
wester  shrieking  through  the  tree-tops,  and  I  was 
very  thankful  that  I  had  taken  the  precaution  of 
clothing  myself  warmly  in  a  wool-lined  leather 
coat  and  trousers,  a  pair  of  long  gum  boots — inval- 
uable for  keeping  out  wet  and  cold  alike — a  wool- 
en balaclava  helmet  under  my  leather  aviation 
cap,  and  two  pairs  of  gloves  to  keep  my  hands 
from  freezing. 

We  had  received  our  instructions  the  previous 
night.  Ten  bomb-dropping  aeroplanes  were  to  be 
convoyed  by  two  battle-planes. 

It  may  be  mentioned  that  a  bomb-dropping 
machine  is  usually  of  the  fast,  scouting  variety, 
with  a  speed  of  well  over  ninety  miles  per  hour, 
and  is  a  single  seater — that  is  to  say,  it  carries  no 
observer.   The  reason  for  this  is  not  very  far  to 

114 


A  GREAT  RAID  115 

seek.  With  two  men  and  a  machine-gun  aboard, 
very  little  power  remains  for  a  supply  of  bombs ; 
without  an  observer  and  a  machine-gun,  the  bomb 
supply  may  be  doubled.  And  the  more  bombs 
aboard  the  more  damage  can  be  done  to  the 
enemy. 

The  battle-plane  is  either  a  "pusher"  (with  the 
propeller  at  the  rear)  aeroplane,  mounting  a  large 
gun  at  the  prow,  or  a  Caudron  with  two  engines. 
Its  principal  duty  is  to  protect  the  bomb-dropping 
machine  from  attack  by  enemy  aircraft. 

The  two  battle-planes  were  the  first  to  get  away 
from  the  ground  and  the  others  soon  followed. 
When  they  had  all  reached  an  altitude  of  5000 
feet,  they  took  up  their  pre-arranged  formation 
with  one  of  the  battle-planes  on  either  wing;  then 
turned  their  noses  eastward  towards  the  sun,  and 
set  off  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy  lines. 

Far  away  across  the  sand-dunes  there  came  the 
first  rays  of  the  rising  sun,  casting  a  thousand 
scintillating  gleams  across  the  sea.  Out  in  the 
channel  was  a  fleet  of  fishing  smacks,  heedless  of 
the  drifting  mines,  bowling  along  merrily  before 
the  breeze  to  their  accustomed  fishing-ground. 
The  dull  gray  lines  and  the  smoke-belching  funnels 
of  a  British  destroyer,  full  out  at  thirty  knots 
showed  as  she  churned  the  seas  into  masses  of 
white  foam,  leaving  in  her  rear  a  long  white  wake. 
Dotted  here  and  there  were  small  tramp-steamers 


ii6  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

and  cargo-boats.  By  the  sand-dunes  off  the  coast 
was  a  long  dark  shape,  which  might  easily  have 
been  mistaken  for  a  whale,  had  it  not  been  for 
that  tell-tale  periscope.  It  was  one  of  our  own 
submarines.  Away  in  the  distance  was  a  dark 
irregular  line,  which  later  in  the  day  and  in  a 
stronger  light,  would  reveal  itself  as  the  shores 
of  old  England. 

A  glance  at  the  altimeter — ^the  instrument  for 
registering  the  height — revealed  the  fact  that  we 
were  now  6000  feet.  Still  climbing,  the  course 
was  set  further  out  to  sea,  to  avoid  as  much  as 
possible  the  anti-aircraft  guns  at  Westende  and 
Middlekerke. 

Things  ashore  now  began  to  brighten  up. 
Along  and  behind  the  firing  line  there  was  the  oc- 
casional flash  of  a  heavy  gun,  followed  almost  Im- 
mediately by  dense  clouds  of  white  smoke.  Along 
the  roads  there  crawled,  ant-like,  the  long  columns 
of  supply  and  ammunition  wagons.  Sometimes  a 
big  gun  appeared,  hauled  along  by  a  puffing  trac- 
tion-engine ;  sometimes  a  battalion  or  company  of 
infantry  or  a  squadron  of  cavalry  moving  up  to 
the  front  line. 

Running  south  and  east  were  the  two  dull  gray 
straggling  lines  of  opposing  trenches,  so  close 
together  In  places  that  they  appeared  to  run  into 
one  another.  We  were  gradually  drawing  nearer 
to  those  much  dreaded  lines  where  our  real  trou- 


A  GREAT  RAID  117 

bles  were  to  begin.  Already  far  up  along  the  coast, 
it  was  possible  to  distinguish  Middlekerke  and  the 
Ostend  railway  station. 

The  first  anti-aircraft  shot !  A  long-drawn-out 
hiss  and  a  violent  explosion  in  unpleasant  proxim- 
ity— a  pretty  enough  exhibition  to  watch  from  the 
safety  of  terra  firma,  but  deucedly  uncomfortable 
when  one  is  playing  the  leading  part  in  the  little 
drama.  It  is  the  first  shot  that  is  always  the  most 
unpleasant  and  the  most  terrifying. 

For  the  next  few  moments  there  continues  a 
fairly  strenuous  bombardment,  which  necessitates 
rapid  climbing  and  diving  to  continually  alter  the 
range.  Then  the  firing  ceases  for  a  short  while, 
and  all  is  normal  again. 

From  behind  a  small  wood  there  comes  floating 
gayly  up  aloft  the  long  and  ugly  shape  of  a 
"sausage"  (captive  balloon).  Now  is  our  chance 
for  a  little  just  retribution.  But,  apparently  the 
Germans  have  seen  us,  for  the  "sausage"  is  being 
brought  rapidly  down  towards  the  earth  again. 
The  temptation  is  too  strong  for  two  of  our  men, 
who,  despite  previous  orders  to  the  contrary,  try 
their  'prentice  hand  with  a  few  bombs,  without 
success.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  this  Is  their  first 
time  across,  for  the  "sausage"  is  the  most  difficult 
of  all  targets,  and  very  rarely  hit. 

My  map  now  reveals  to  me  that  we  are  over 
Ostend.    More  shrapnel  flies  up,  Interspersed  here 


ii8  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

and  there  with  high-explosive  shell.  One  can  feel 
a  certain  contempt  for  shrapnel  in  mid-air.  The 
conditions  are  entirely  different  when  firing  across 
the  land,  than  when  firing  straight  up  into  the  air. 
In  the  latter  case  the  resistance  is  more  than  treble, 
with  the  result  that,  by  the  time  the  shrapnel 
reaches  anything  of  an  altitude,  the  best  of  its 
driving  force  has  been  expended,  and  bullets  rattle 
harmlessly  against  the  wings  of  the  aeroplane.  In 
fact,  on  one  occasion  a  Royal  Flying  Corps  pilot 
returned  from  a  reconnaissance  trip  with  365 
bullet-holes  in  various  parts  of  his  machine, 
which  was  still  air-worthy. 

High  explosive  is  another  matter.  If  it  bursts 
reasonably  near  the  machine,  there  is  not  the 
slightest  chance  of  ever  reaching  the  ground  again 
in  a  whole  condition,  and  even  when  bursting  at  a 
distance  it  is  apt  to  give  the  aeroplane  a  nasty  jar 
and  sometimes  upsets  it  entirely. 

One  machine  has  had  to  drop  out  and  has  turned 
back  towards  the  lines,  and  now  there  are  only 
eleven  of  us.  More  shrapnel  and  yet  more ;  much 
too  near  on  the  last  occasion.  We  climb  rapidly 
higher  to  10,000  feet.  It  is  a  fine,  clear  day,  and 
everything  beneath  us  is  quite  distinct.  Even  so, 
it  is  a  very  difficult  matter  to  maneuver  the 
machine  and  to  use  one's  glasses  at  the  same  time. 

One  peculiarity  in  atmospherical  conditions  on 
the  Continent  is  that  the  weather  is  either  too 


A  GREAT  RAID  119 

misty  for  flying,  or  so  remarkably  clear  that  the 
airman  can  reconnoiter  from  much  greater  heights 
than  in  England.  For  the  first  two  hours  after 
sunrise  there  is  invariably  a  heavy  ground  mist. 
Yet  early  morning  and  later  afternoon  are  the 
more  favorable  times  for  flying  purposes. 

Ghistelles  looms  into  view,  far  away  to  the 
south  and  bathed  in  a  sea  of  light  mist.  It  is  the 
great  German  aeronautical  center  in  Belgium.  All 
the  large  enemy  raids  are  organized  and  planned 
at  this  center.  The  town  itself  is  of  no  great  size, 
but  it  has  good  lines  of  communication  by  road 
and  rail,  both  to  the  firing  line  and  the  distant 
bases  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Brussels. 
There  are  some  forty  hangars  there,  and  until 
quite  recently  there  were  two  large  sheds.  Prob- 
ably no  other  spot  within  the  German  lines  is  so 
well  and  plentifully  supplied  with  anti-aircraft 
guns  as  is  this  place. 

Far  away  in  the  distance,  and  coming  "down 
wind"  at  a  very  great  pace,  is  a  minute  black 
shape,  at  present  no  larger  in  size  than  a  man's 
hand. 

An  enemy  machine  1  Excitement  rules  high.  He 
cannot  have  seen  us,  for  no  Hun  airman  would 
dream  of  taking  on  so  many  of  our  machines 
single  handed. 

Nearer  and  yet  nearer  he  draws.  Suddenly  he 
sees  us.     He  turns  quickly,  but  is  too  late.     Our 


I20  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

battle-plane  on  the  extreme  right  is  after  him. 
The  enemy  skirts  the  fringe  of  the  dark  clouds 
that  hang  across  the  horizon.  After  him  goes  our 
battle-plane.  For  a  short  space  of  time  both  are 
hidden  in  its  depths.  Then,  from  the  distant  end, 
there  descends  rapidly  a  small  black  object. 

Is  it  British  or  enemy?  Down  she  goes;  a  steep 
volplane  turning  into  a  spiral,  and  finally  into  a 
murderous-looking  nose-dive.  Thank  Heaven,  it 
is  the  enemy  machine.  I  have  seen  the  black  cross 
on  the  tail.  Back  comes  our  machine  triumphant, 
and  we  continue  on  our  way  to  Ostend. 

There  are  various  objectives  of  an  offensive 
through  the  air.  There  is  the  attack  on  enemy 
aircraft.  This  is  hardly  a  matter  for  an  organized 
raid;  it  is  rather  the  errand  of  a  cruising  battle- 
plane. Next  there  comes  the  destruction  of  ma- 
terial; ammunition  columns  (usually  situated  in 
woods),  parks  of  transport,  railways,  and  all  ap- 
pertaining to  them,  and  especially  bridges  and 
trains,  stations  and  sidings,  enemy  headquarters, 
aeroplane  and  airship  sheds,  petrol  depots,  and 
gas-works. 

Lastly,  there  is  the  bombing  of  troops.  This  is 
a  comparatively  simple  matter,  the  best  occasion 
on  which  to  attack  them  being  when  they  are 
crowded  in  roadways  and  similar  areas. 

Zeebrugge  was  at  last  almost  within  reach.  The 
place  Is  recognizable  from  the  long  jetty  running 


A  GREAT  RAID  121 

in  a  large  curve  far  out  Into  the  sea.  Proceeding 
in  a  westerly  direction  are  numerous  heavy  troop- 
trains,  and  standing  in  the  sidings  several  loco- 
motives with  steam  up,  all  of  which  incidents  point 
to  the  movement  of  a  large  number  of  troops.  In 
the  harbor  are  four  destroyers  and  three  subma- 
rines.    The  more  the  merrier  I 

Gradually  we  draw  nearer.  It  is  now  possible 
to  see  something  of  the  panic  in  the  streets  and 
roadways.  Motor-cars  are  darting  out  of  the  city 
in  all  directions;  the  destroyers  are  hurriedly  try- 
ing to  make  for  the  open  sea.  The  anti-aircraft 
guns  begin  to  open  fire  from  every  quarter.  And 
then  we  commence  to  drop  our  bombs.  Down  they 
go,  those  ministers  of  death  and  destruction,  to 
their  targets.  Huge  columns  of  living  flame  leap 
up  skywards  hundreds  of  feet  Into  the  air.  The 
din  of  the  engine  resounds  upon  the  ear-drums  un- 
til we  begin  to  wonder  If  we  shall  ever  be  able  to 
hear  distinctly  again.  But  down  below,  where  the 
guns  still  pound  away  unceasingly,  the  crash  of  the 
bursting  shells,  the  violent  explosions  of  the  drop- 
ping bombs;  all  are  strangely  noiseless.  It  is  a 
veritable  Inferno  of  death  and  destruction. 

The  roof-tops  of  the  city  are  covered  with  great 
rolling  clouds  of  thick  black  smoke.  It  Is  now 
almost  impossible  to  distinguish  any  landmark  on 
the  ground  below. 

Two  of  our  machines  have  already  gone  crash- 


122  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

ing  down.  The  sight  of  them  falling  is  the  great- 
est shock  to  the  nerves  imaginable;  it  is  the  true 
test  of  bravery,  for  one  always  feels  tempted  to 
give  up  and  follow  them,  but  only  for  the  passing 
second.  The  lust  of  battle  grows  strong  again; 
more  bombs  and  yet  more  are  dropped  onto  the 
stricken  city.  The  flying  of  the  machines  is  mar- 
velous to  behold. 

Another  of  our  craft  is  hit,  making  number 
three;  she,  too,  disappears  into  the  mist  beneath. 
Our  bombs  are  now  all  exhausted  and  we  turn 
thankfully  homewards.  Another  machine  drops 
out,  to  land  safely  on  the  foreshore,  and,  as  we 
afterwards  learn,  the  pilot  is  made  a  prisoner. 
Then  we  reach  our  own  lines  once  more  and  are 
safe. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  DAY-DREAM 

Somewhere  in  the  North  of  France, 

Saturday. 

The  other  day  I  had  a  dream;  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  at  10,000  feet  up  in  the  air,  with  the 
biting  cold  wind  whistling  by  my  ears.  On  all 
sides  stretched  the  air,  a  boundless  infinity;  be- 
neath, a  moving  panorama  of  wood,  river,  and 
hill,  of  men,  guns  and  battle-field.  Far  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  waters  of  the  North  Sea  glinted  blue  in 
the  early  morning  sun;  when  suddenly  the  air  be- 
came filled  with  a  strange  purring  sound,  and  from 
all  sides  came  flying  hundreds  of  aircraft  of  vary- 
ing shapes  and  sizes.  Among  them  I  noticed  one, 
a  leviathan.  A  long  cigar-shaped,  silver-tinted, 
super-airship;  beneath  and  swinging  easily  in  the 
breeze,  the  hull  was  in  the  shape  of  the  old-fash- 
ioned sea-going  steamer.  Forward  was  a  wide  ex- 
panse of  promenade  deck,  where  could  plainly  be 
distinguished  the  passengers  walking  to  and  fro. 
In  the  center,  on  a  raised  dais,  a  band,  resplendent 

t23 


124  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

in  blue  and  gold,  were  strumming  some  popular 
air.  Amidships  a  great  bridge,  where  the  officer 
of  the  watch  and  the  quartermaster  were  directing 
her  course.  Astern  was  another  wide  expanse  of 
deck,  but  this  apparently  was  reserved  for  the 
crew.  Now  a  large  group  of  men  were  busily  en- 
gaged round  a  small,  bullet-shaped  aeroplane. 
With  a  whirr,  she  started  off  across  the  wide  deck, 
and  a  second  later  was  gracefully  clearing  the  great 
ship's  side,  and  missing  a  green  and  white  balloon 
buoy  literally  by  inches,  sank  rapidly  in  a  southerly 
direction;  and  then  our  wireless  telephone  rang. 
It  was  the  big  ship  speaking  us,  "Had  we  seen 
anything  of  the  home-bound  mail?"  "No,  we  had 
not."  "Could  we  say  what  the  Siberian  weather 
conditions  had  been  the  day  previous?"  "Well, 
nothing  extraordinary,  slight  haze  over  North 
China."  "Strange,  the  Menelaus  left  Canton  yes- 
terday, should  have  reported  Bombay  this  morn- 
ing, Moscow  reports  her  two  hours  overdue." 
"No,  we  have  seen  nothing  of  the  missing  liner;" 
and,  leaving  the  great  pleasure  ship  miles  in  the 
rear,  we  skim  across  the  Carpathians,  speaking 
two  Serbian  cruisers  on  patrol  duty  along  the 
Northern  Frontier.  From  thence  we  run  into  a 
storm,  have  to  climb  to  5000,  and  by  the  time  the 
mist  and  darkness  clears  away,  the  North  Sea  has 
loomed  into  view.  Now  we  are  more  In  the  beaten 
track,  swarms  of  small  pleasure  craft  go  cruising 


A  DAY-DREAM  125 

by;  the  Paris-London  way  is  chock-a-block  with 
traffic:  cumbersome  great  four  and  eight  engined 
merchant  vessels,  slim  graceful  pleasure  craft, 
Government  vessels,  two  giant  American  liners, 
and  an  Australian  non-stop  mail-boat,  some  naval 
craft  and  small  police  patrol  craft,  endeavoring  to 
order  the  converging  lines,  and  two  military  trans- 
ports bringing  home  leave  men  from  Abyssinia. 
The  Far  East  fleet,  flying  majestically  and  im- 
pressively along  with  the  flagship  Twentieth  Cen- 
tury leading  the  line,  the  hind  portion  tapering  oflt 
gracefully  and  far  into  the  rear  to  the  smaller 
aeroplane — torpedo  craft.  The  air  is  full  of  the 
crackling  of  the  wireless,  every  master  endeavor- 
ing at  the  same  time  to  engage  a  berth  in  either 
the  London  or  Norwich  aerodromes.  Soon  the 
fleet  makes  a  sharp  turn  to  the  left,  the  less  Im- 
portant and  smaller  craft  scurrying  hurriedly  away 
to  give  her  passage.  The  Home  Fleet  looms  into 
view,  silent  and  majestic;  in  the  dim  distance  the 
two  units  sight  each  other,  and  after  paying  the 
usual  compliments,  pass  on  their  respective  ways. 
Nearer  the  English  coast  the  air  swarms  with 
pleasure  vessels,  elegant  and  tiny  airships  float 
lazily  In  the  air,  their  occupants  lolling  idly  in  the 
sun.  Over  Dover  can  be  seen  the  ugly  form  of  the 
new  floating  dock,  said  to  be  large  enough  to  ac- 
commodate even  an  air  dreadnought. 

Strung  across  the  North  Sea;  about  2000  feet 


126  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

up,  and  well  below  the  level  of  the  trade  routes, 
are  the  small  gray  ships  of  the  Aerial  Sporting 
League.  We  speak  one  of  them.  There  is  to  be 
an  international  race  this  morning  between  Lon- 
don and  Petrograd.  Amused,  we  watch  the  long 
gray  line  at  the  starting-post,  among  the  green 
fields  of  Kent,  presently  they  are  beneath  us  in  a 
long  extended  line,  two  machines  of  our  own  red, 
white  and  blue,  well  to  the  fore.  We  give  our 
number  and  business  to  the  Patrol  airship  at  the 
Nore,  and  come  down  slowly  to  pick  up  our  land- 
ing stage,  somewhere  east  of  Greenwich,  when 
suddenly  the  waters  of  the  Thames  below  are  cleft 
in  twain,  as  if  by  an  earthquake,  and  from  the  dis- 
turbance there  rises  a  squat,  peculiarly  shaped 
craft,  that  commences  to  glide  along  the  smooth 
surface  of  the  water  towards  Purfleet,  where  she 
climbs  gently  out  onto  the  far  bank,  into  a  wide 
gray  slipway,  some  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width. 
Still  crawling  along  on  her  belly,  she  reaches  the 
Government  repair  works  where,  taking  fresh  sup- 
plies aboard,  she  suddenly  sprouts  two  wings  and 
commences  climbing  up  into  the  air.  Again  there 
is  an  unpleasant  purring  noise,  and  a  yet  more  un- 
pleasant concussion.  .  .  . 

"Shrapnel,"  my  observer  bawls  into  my  ear, 
"better  go  higher,"  and  we  do. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  MID-AIR  BATTLE 

Somewhere  in  France, 

Friday. 

It  was  a  sleepy  old-world  town  hidden  away  in 
the  sunny  hills  of  Northern  France,  with  a  broad 
highway  leading  from  the  town  in  either  direction 
and  easily  distinguishable  from  the  air  as  being  a 
first-class  or  main  road,  by  its  extraordinary  width 
and  the  superabundance  of  traffic  passing  to  and 
fro.  We  were  still  flying  low  and  could  easily  dis- 
tinguish the  long  strings  of  motor  cars,  convoys 
of  ambulance  wagons,  supply  and  ammunition  col- 
umns. In  one  place  a  battalion  of  reinforcements, 
marching  up  towards  the  firing  line  with  their 
transport  wagons  in  the  rear.  Further  up  and 
nearer  to  the  firing  line  were  a  string  of  motor 
'buses,  crowded  outside  with  Tommies,  their  bay- 
onets gleaming  silver  as  they  caught  the  rays  of 
the  early  sun.  In  another  place  a  small  traction- 
engine  was  hauling  a  chain  of  limbers,  on  which 
were  the  parts  of  a  "grandmother"  (naval  15-inch 
gun)  being  hurried  up  to  take  part  in  that  mur- 
derous duel  along  the  lines. 

127 


128  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

We  are  now  getting  nearer  the  dreaded  area, 
and  for  the  sake  of  comfort  and  safety  have  to 
climb  higher.  The  surface  of  the  earth,  however, 
still  remains  distinct.  The  long  gray  winding  lines 
of  trenches  stretch  away  to  the  north  and  south  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  In  some  places  as  much 
as  half  a  mile  divides  them,  in  others  they  are  so 
close  together,  that  from  above  they  appear  to 
"kiss."  But  our  happy  soliloquizing  is  broken  by 
the  burst  of  a  shrapnel  shell  in  the  near  vicinity. 
No  more  time  for  thought  now. 

A  Soft  Job 

Diving,  climbing,  banking,  anywhere  to  get 
away  from  those  awful  shells,  and  who  can  give 
description  to  the  dreadful  sensations  one  under- 
goes the  first  time  under  shrapnel  fire  in  mId-aIr? 
Heaven  and  earth  seem  to  be  rent  In  twain  by 
those  murderous  little  balls  of  smoke  and  flame 
and  lead. 

One's  past  life  rises  before  one's  eyes,  sometimes 
most  unpleasantly.  Shells  burst  all  round,  above, 
below,  to  the  left,  to  the  right.  At  one  moment 
over  the  nose  of  the  machine,  the  next  beneath  the 
tail.  Once  hit,  and  the  aeroplane  and  its  occu- 
pants will  plunge  down  to  an  agonizing  death  on 
the  ground,  many  thousands  of  feet  below. 

"And  this,"  once  remarked  a  cynic  of  one  of  the 


A  MID-AIR  BATTLE  129 

flying  Services,  "is  what  the  men  in  the  trenches 
call  a  soft  job." 

By  the  time  we  have  the  opportunity  of  looking 
over  the  side  again,  we  are  well  into  the  enemy's 
country.  In  appearance  this  is  an  almost  abso- 
lute replica  of  the  area  behind  our  own  lines. 
There  are  the  reserve  trenches ;  there  the  big-gun 
emplacement  and  the  advance  hospitals,  battalion, 
brigade  and  divisional  headquarters,  and  far,  very 
far,  in  the  background,  the  German  G.  H.  Q. 

An  Enemy  Machine 

We  keep  a  wary  eye  open  for  movements  of 
troops  or  supplies,  but  there  is  nothing  doing. 
The  enemy,  like  ourselves,  is  browsing  on  this 
beautiful  September  morning.  Again  we  are 
troubled  with  the  bursting  "Archies,"  and  again 
we  climb  higher,  this  time  above  the  clouds,  that 
stretch  all  round  and  beneath  us  in  a  billowy  snow- 
white  sea.  Slowly  we  creep  round  a  big  white 
fellow  towards  the  sun,  when  out  from  a  distant 
corner,  like  a  spider  from  his  web,  there  darts  an 
enemy  machine.  Has  he  seen  us?  For  a  moment 
he  keeps  on  his  way,  then  suddenly  round  goes  his 
nose,  and  he  comes  towards  us  "down-wind"  at  a 
great  pace.  As  he  draws  near  we  discover  that 
he  is  double-engined  and  mounts  two  machine- 
guns.    He  has  the  advantage  both  in  the  matter 


130  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

of  guns  and  speed,  which  counts  for  a  great  deal 
in  an  aerial  combat.  With  a  faster  turn  of  speed 
and  the  wind  at  his  back,  a  good  pilot  should  be 
able  to  overcome  an  enemy  machine,  however 
large  and  however  heavily  armed. 

While  still  about  five  hundred  yards  away,  he 
opens  fire,  but  without  effect,  his  bullets  fly  wide 
on  either  side  of  us.  We  reserve  our  fire.  Now 
he  is  almost  on  top  of  us,  and  in  the  upper  berth, 
thus  having  a  great  advantage.  He  is  over  us; 
the  great  shadow  of  his  machine  comes  between 
the  sun  and  ourselves.  All  the  time  his  observer 
is  firing  wildly,  some  of  his  shots  have  punctured 
the  wings,  but  thank  God,  none  came  near  the 
body.  The  danger  is  over.  It  has  been  a  narrow 
escape. 

Carry  On 

We  climb  as  fast  as  possible,  then  turn  to  find 
him  coming  to  meet  us,  almost  on  end.  Another 
machine-gun  duel  between  the  observers.  We  have 
got  him  this  time ;  he  is  hit,  he  drops  suddenly.  A 
few  more  shots  from  our  gun  and  it  will  be  all 
over  with  him.  But  our  gun  has  jammed,  hastily 
the  observer  tries  to  remedy  it.  It  is  too  late. 
We  have  missed  our  opportunity.  Nothing  else 
for  it  but  to  put  a  new  tray  of  ammunition  in  the 
gun  and  have  another  go  at  him.    How  difficult 


A  MID-AIR  BATTLE  131 

this  is  in  mid-air !  In  the  safety  of  terra  firma  it 
is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  take  the  gun  to 
pieces,  or  to  change  the  ammunition  tray,  but  here, 
in  the  confined  space  of  an  aeroplane  up  in  mid-air 
it  is  an  entirely  different  matter.  We  are  only  just 
ready  when  he  turns  to  meet  us.  Another  duel — 
he  has  passed  by. 

Again  we  both  wheel  to  the  combat.  This  time 
he  is  on  top  of  us.  We  give  up  hope,  and  prepare 
for  the  worst.  On  the  top  of  us  again;  his  shoot- 
ing is  bad,  but  he  has  got  the  observer  in  the  arm. 
Turn  round  to  escape — no  combat  possible  with 
the  man  at  the  gun  hors  de  combat;  but  the  ob- 
server, plucky  fellow !  does  not  know  the  meaning 
of  defeat.  He  signals  to  his  pilot  to  carry  on. 
We  turn  again.  The  enemy  is  confident  that  he 
has  winged  us.  Too  confident!  We  wait  till  he 
is  almost  level  with  us  before  we  fire.  Then  zipp, 
zipp,  zipp,  he  is  hit.  He  plunges  downward.  We 
get  on  top  of  him.  Another  round  of  lead  into  his 
back.  It  is  all  over,  he  plunges  headlong  to  earth  ; 
and  with  a  feeling  of  regret  for  our  gallant  foe, 
who  fought  so  well,  we  turn  homewards  to  earth, 
peace,  and  safety. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  BATTLE    FROM  ABOVE 

Somewhere  in  the  North  of  France, 

Thursday. 

Dawn — not  as  we  imagine  it;  but  a  dawn  with 
God's  clear  Heaven  filled  with  every  winged  mes- 
senger of  death.  The  very  earth  is  shaken  with 
agony,  and  the  face  of  the  sun  is  blotted  out  by 
heavy,  choking  clouds  of  picric  smoke  that  hangs 
and  hovers  over  the  earth  like  a  pall. 

Far  in  the  background  rises  a  battle  aeroplane. 
Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  line  it  creeps,  and  with- 
out any  attention  from  the  enemy's  anti-aircraft 
guns.  The  German  artillery  is  too  much  engaged 
in  work  of  a  more  serious  nature — the  work  of 
hurling  back  the  irresistible  lines  of  British  in- 
fantry. 

The  frail  craft  passes  over  the  lines,  and  meet- 
ing with  no  opposition  sinks  lower  In  long,  sweep- 
ing circles,  and  finally  appears  to  hover,  as  nearly 
as  an  aeroplane  can  hover,  some  two  miles  to  the 
east  and  well  over  the  enemy's  country.  Then  it  is 

132 


A  BATTLE  FROM  ABOVE         133 

bombarded  on  all  sides  with  "Archibalds,"  now 
above,  now  below,  now  immediately  in  front,  now 
immediately  behind,  but  the  machine  continues  to 
maneuver  as  if  entirely  oblivious  of  shell  fire. 
Other  swiftly  moving  shapes  have  now  crept  out 
from  the  direction  of  the  British  base,  and  all  are 
hovering  over  different  portions  of  the  long  line 
of  muddy  trenches,  while  the  battle  rages  in  all 
its  fury. 

All  the  varied  operations  of  the  extensive  battle- 
field are  as  an  open  book  to  the  watch  in  that  frail 
craft  .  .  .  the  battle  swaying  backward  and  for- 
ward from  trench  to  trench,  the  hand-to-hand  com- 
bat in  the  open,  the  ding-dong  artillery  duel,  and 
the  hurried  rush  of  supports  and  reinforcements. 
Nothing  can  be  hidden  from  this  peering  eye 
above,  that  transmits  the  news  by  wireless  to  the 
great  guns  far  in  the  rear,  and  to  the  headquarters, 
where  the  commander  traces  every  movement  of 
the  battle  on  his  map,  like  a  chess-player  planning 
his  moves  and  counter-moves  on  a  chessboard. 

The  enemy's  country  is  more  heavily  wooded 
and  more  broken  than  our  own.  Dotted  here  and 
there  are  small  straggling  villages.  To  the  north, 
on  either  side  of  the  road,  are  two  small  villages, 
now  a  mass  of  ruins.  Between  them  is  the  tall 
chimney  of  a  sugar  factory,  from  which  the  black 
smoke  no  longer  rises;  and  behind  it,  nearer  the 
firing  line,  the  long,  ragged  arms  of  a  windmill 


134         THE  WAYi  OF  THE  AIR 

move  furtively  in  the  slight  breeze.  To  the  south, 
and  immediately  in  the  rear  of  another  small  vil- 
lage, there  is  a  large  and  straggling  cemetery. 

Woods,  farms,  a  broken  and  distorted  railway 
line,  another  factory,  and  a  narrow  winding 
stream,  and  the  picture  is  complete.  Nol  Not 
quite  complete.  Standing  far  removed  from  the 
main  road  is  a  large  and  densely  wooded  forest. 
The  observer  watches  anxiously  the  stretch  of 
British  trenches  immediately  facing  the  wood. 
Then  the  barren,  shell-swept  land  between  the 
opposing  trenches  springs  into  life.  Men  and 
more  men  come  swarming  across  the  trenches  and 
make  for  the  German  lines. 

The  observer  watches  anxiously  the  stretch  of 
British  trenches  immediately  facing  the  wood. 
There  is  a  strange,  unaccountable  feeling  in  the 
air  that,  were  it  not  for  the  never-ceasing  roar  of 
the  aeroplane  engine,  would  be  hushed  and  silent 
as  the  moment  prior  to  the  start  of  a  horse-race, 
when  an  element  of  overstrung  expectancy  per- 
vades the  human  brain.  Down  below  there,  the 
lilliputian  figures  crouch  like  ants  behind  the  mud- 
bank,  waiting  for  the  dread  signal  when  the  race 
shall  commence,  the  race  of  human  life  and  death. 
The  booming  of  the  great  guns  in  the  rear  has 
long  since  ceased,  and  the  nebulous  region  of  No- 
man's-land,  were  it  not  for  the  battle-scarred 
earth,  would  resemble  an  ordinary  peaceful  coun- 


A  BATTLE  FROM  ABOVE         135 

try-side,  so  quiet  and  deserted  has  it  become.  The 
minutes  tick  slowly  on  and  on.  Now  it  must  be 
getting  very  near  the  appointed  hour.  Will  it 
never  come?  Restless  movements  are  evidenced 
in  the  opposing  trenches,  where  an  occasional  bay- 
onet glitters  in  the  sun,  or  strange  figures  wander 
to  and  fro.  At  last !  With  a  shout  and  roar,  they 
are  over  the  top.  The  earth  trembles.  Then  the 
barren  shell-swept  land  between  the  opposing 
trenches  springs  into  life.  Men  and  more  men 
come  swarming  across  and  make  for  the  German 
lines.  The  scene  now  baffles  all  description,  it  is 
like  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Dante's  Inferno,  as  if 
all  the  hate  and  murder  and  courage  and  strength 
of  human  existence  had  met  in  one  protracted 
struggle  of  life  and  death  between  savagery  and 
civilization.  The  two  opposing  masses  intermin- 
gle, so  that  now  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  dis- 
tinguish each  from  each. 

At  last  there  comes  a  lull  in  the  battle,  and  the 
aeroplane  pilot,  his  hazardous  expedition  con- 
cluded and  at  a  sign  from  the  observer,  thankfully 
turns  for  home,  leaving  behind  him  a  scorched  and 
scarred  earth  from  which  the  smoke  rises  continu- 
ously in  curling  white-gray  clouds. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

a  true  story  of  the  war 
(being  part  of  the  diary  of  an  inhabitant) 

Somewhere  in  Belgium, 

Sunday. 

Sunday  again,  but  hardly  to  be  imagined  in 
these  troublous  times  and  places,  with  adventure 
for  one's  bedfellow,  war  for  one's  profession,  and 
bloodshed  and  horrors  for  one's  constant  reflec- 
tion. Despite  all  this  there  exists,  and  must  always 
exist  in  every  war  that  peculiar  intermingling,  that 
strange  blend  of  horror  and  sentiment,  hate  and 
romance,  that  mixture  of  dross  and  gold.  The 
feelings  and  actions  that  bring  out  all  that  is  the 
most  savage,  the  most  primitive  in  man's  nature, 
at  the  same  time  endowing  him  with  the  tender- 
ness and  unselfishness  of  a  woman,  the  courage  of 
a  hero,  and  the  fortitude  and  forbearance  of  a 
saint.  Romance!  I  have  a  most  charming  In- 
stance to  give  to  you  my  dear  M . 

We  met  him  first  in  December,  19 14,  in  the  lit- 
tle old-world  town  of  S .    In  fact  I  had  the 

136 


A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  WAR     137 

good  fortune  to  be  billeted  upon  him.  The  better 
class,  or  rather  all  those  inhabitants  who  could 
afford  it,  had  fled  from  the  town  at  the  first  ad- 
vance of  the  Hun  hordes.  But  he  had  elected  to 
risk  his  neck,  and  stay  to  comfort,  and  if  possible 
to  protect,  the  women  and  children.  He  was  a 
queer  old  character  was  Pere  Dreyfus;  he  had 
lived  in  the  little  town  now  thirty  years,  since  he 
came  there  first  as  a  stripling  curate.  His  curling 
brown  hair  had  turned  to  an  austere  gray,  his 
cheeks  were  hollow  and  shrunken,  and  his  old 
back  was  bent  almost  double  with  shouldering 
other  people's  burdens.  By  the  general  popula- 
tion he  was  almost  idolized,  men,  women  and  even 
small  children  brought  their  troubles  to  Pere  Drey- 
fus, and  they  never  went  away  without  receiving 
the  closest  attention,  and  the  warmest  sympathy. 
As  they  loved  and  idolized  him,  so  he  reciprocated 
their  feelings,  and  never  tired  of  talking  of  them, 
in  the  long  dark  evenings,  when  we  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  sharing  his  company  over  a  glass  of  old 
port,  with  Monsieur  le  Maire.  He  would  relate 
vividly  and  with  force,  how  In  the  great  advance, 
the  Uhlan  patrols  had  ridden  into  the  town, 
camped  there  for  thirty-six  hours,  then  returned 
the  way  they  had  come  without,  strange  to  say, 
molesting  any  of  the  population.  But  there  was 
one  thing  that  Pere  Dreyfus  did  not  believe  in, 
and  that  was  the  air. 


138  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

"Bah,"  he  was  wont  to  say,  with  a  contemptu- 
ous snap  of  his  bony  fingers;  "mere  playthings, 
toys,  those  air-machines,  toys  that  will  be  shot 
down  before  they  have  been  in  the  air  for  half- 
an-hour  on  end."  He  had  incidentally  never  seen 
an  aeroplane  in  flight,  and  little  did  he  guess  how 
those  mere  playthings  were  to  affect  his  own  life. 

The  cold,  dreary  winter  had  blossomed  forth 
into  glorious  spring-tide,  when  again  I  came  to 

S .    The  old  town  had  not  changed  much;  if 

anything  it  was  sleepier  and  drearier  than  ever. 
My  first  visit  was  to  the  little  corner  house  by  the 
great  stone  church ;  but  the  little  corner  house  was 
no  more,  in  Its  place  was  a  pile  of  shattered  ma- 
sonry. With  vague  misgivings  I  sought  M.  le 
Maire,  and  found  him  In  his  stuffy,  dingy  little 
office  In  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  He  was  poring  over 
some  musty  documents  as  I  entered,  but  Immedi- 
ately left  them  to  shake  me  effusively  by  the  hand. 
"But  where  Is  Pere  Dreyfus?"  I  demanded  of 
him.  Where?  He  gave  that  Impressive  shrug 
of  the  shoulders  peculiar  to  the  Latin,  and  rolled 
his  eyes  meaningly  towards  the  heavens. 

"Dead?"  I  exclaimed.     "How  did  he  die?" 

"Ze  airplanes,"  he  replied;  "how  you  call  them? 
Ze  flying  machines  come  one  night,  and  drop  a 
bomb.  When  I  go  search  In  ze  morning,  ze 
worthy  Father  Is  no  more." 

Thus  briefly.  In  as  many  words  he  recounted 


A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  WAR     139 

another  tragedy  of  this  awful  war.  Fortune  Is, 
indeed,  a  fickle  jade.  It  had  been  her  will  that 
.  .  .  But  there,  the  story  is  best  told  in  the  worthy 
Father's  own  words.  I  quote  extracts  from  a  lit-' 
tie  diary  that  it  was  his  habit  to  keep,  and  which 
was  all  that  now  remained  to  enable  us  to  glean 
a  true  glimpse  of  the  old  Father's  personal  feel- 
ings In  the  matter. 

Monday. — The  incessant  thunder  of  heavy  ar- 
tillery the  whole  night  long.  Thus  it  has  been  for 
the  past  fourteen  months,  night  after  night  without 
a  break.   I  notice  it  no  longer;  it  has  become  part 

and  parcel  of  my  everyday  existence.  Up  at 

yesterday  those  devils  shot  Meurice.  For  what 
reason  I  have  not  yet  heard.  I  wonder  what  has 
become  of  his  wife  and  two  children?  God  help 
them  If  they  are  In  their  hands  I   Yesterday  as  I 

walked  from  I  noticed  high  up  in  the  sky 

three  black  specks  coming  over  in  a  north-easterly 
direction.  Our  soldiers  said  they  were  German 
aeroplanes,  but  they  passed  away  again  without 
attempting  to  drop  any  bombs.  It  Is  not  these 
things  that  we  fear,  but  those  fiendish  17-inch 
shells,  which  come  over  sometimes  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  and  tear  away  a  street  of  houses, 
killing,  wounding,  maiming.    Unhappy  Belgium. 

Wednesday. — No  change!  M.  le  Maire  asked 
me  If  I  would  billet  two  British  soldiers  to-day. 


I40  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

I  found  them  pleasant  fellows  enough;  young  lieu- 
tenants of  an  infantry  regiment.  Such  youths,  one 
of  them  cannot  be  more  than  eighteen  years  of 
age :  a  handsome  boy,  with  the  deep  blue  eyes  and 
fair  curling  hair,  typical  of  his  race.  They  ap- 
pear to  regard  the  war  more  in  the  light  of  a  big 
picnic.  But  they  have  not  yet  been  up  to  the 
firing  lines,  nor  seen  the  terrors  of  battle.  Again 
to-day  two  enemy  air  machines  came  over.  They 
hit  Laroche's  wine  store  and  killed  him  and  his 
wife  and  children.  Nevertheless,  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  they  are  but  of  minor  importance 
when  compared  with  those  diabolical  shells. 

Thursday. — The  two  soldiers  left  again  this 
afternoon,  smiling  and  joking  as  they  came.  All 
the  afternoon  and  far  into  the  night  the  infantry 
have  been  marching  past,  along  the  road,  thou- 
sands of  them,  regiment  after  regiment,  with  their 
bands  playing  gayly  at  their  head.  The  men  all 
happy  and  contented,  marching  as  if  they  were 
going  on  parade,  instead  of  up  to  the  firing  line, 
many  of  them  never  to  return.  They  have  brave 
hearts  these  English!  Many  wagons  of  ammuni- 
tion have  been  placed  in  the  wood  behind  this 
house.  They  call  it  an  ammunition  park.  Why,  I 
know  not. 

Friday. — All  to-day  it  rained  and  thundered. 
Thundered  as  if  God  in  His  Heaven  were  venting 
His  wrath  on  the  warring  world  below.    For  one 


A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  WAR     141 

long  day  there  has  been  no  booming  of  those  awful 
guns.  The  road  has  become  bare  and  deserted. 
In  the  evening  came  men  Into  my  house  from  the 
ammunition  wagons  In  the  wood.  They  told  me 
that  they  had  caught  a  spy.  I  am  not  surprised; 
this  district  swarms  with  them.  But  what  other- 
wise can  be  expected  If,  previous  to  the  war,  the 
entire  business  relations  of  the  neighborhood  were 
conducted  with  the  Germans?  Every  purchasable 
article  from  a  motor-car  to  a  needle  was  supplied 
from  Berlin.  This  man  was  discovered  In  a  de- 
serted part  of  the  wood,  sending  messages  on  a 
telegraph  key.  A  sapper  of  the  engineers  saw  the 
wire  laid  across  the  ground,  and  curious  to  know 
whither  it  led  followed  It  along  until  he  discovered 
this  man.  He  will  trouble  us  no  more.  But  the 
unhappy  result  of  It  is,  they  say  he  signaled  the 
position  to  the  enemy,  who  will  undoubtedly  bom- 
bard us  when  the  weather  becomes  fine  again. 

Saturday. — A  fine  clear  morning.  I  hoped  that 
the  words  of  the  sapper  would  prove  themselves 
to  be  Incorrect,  and  so  they  were  to  a  certain  de- 
gree. Anxiously  I  awaited  the  bombardment,  and 
it  must  be  confessed  with  a  great  misgiving  In  my 
heart.  Ten  o'clock!  Eleven  o'clock  I  Twelve 
o'clock!  And  still  they  did  not  open  fire.  But 
just  before  one  a  German  Taube  flew  over.  Un- 
like the  air  machine  In  the  previous  visits  It  did  not 
fly  away  immediately,  but  came  gradually  lower 


142  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

In  long  sweeping  circles,  until  with  my  glasses  I 
was  able  to  distinguish  the  two  black  crosses  on 
the  wings.  Then  the  pom-poms  began  to  bark  and 
screech,  and  the  heavens  all  round  were  marked 
with  small  white  clouds  of  smoke  no  bigger  than  a 
man's  hand  In  size,  and  fascinating  to  watch.  He 
was  a  cool  fellow,  the  pilot  of  that  air  machine : 
undismayed  by  the  bursting  shrapnel  he  continued 
to  circle  round  overhead,  as  If  taking  the  exact 
bearings  of  the  ammunition  camp. 

Monday. — I  was  roused  from  my  bed  by  a 
series  of  violent  explosions.  It  is  that  Infernal 
bombardment  come  at  last,  I  thought  to  myself. 
But  no  I  The  air  above  was  filled  with  a  loud  hum 
as  of  a  hundred  motors.  I  looked  above  me  to 
find  the  face  of  the  sky  darkened  with  aircraft, 
all  of  them  with  the  black  cross  on  either  wing; 
from  all  sides  they  appeared  to  be  circling  In.  And 
every  moment  there  would  be  the  unpleasant  rush 
of  the  falling  bomb.  A  shattering  explosion.  A 
burst  of  flame !  And  the  yell  or  cry  of  the  dead 
and  dying,  the  heartbreaking  neigh  of  a  wounded 
horse,  the  crash  of  falling  timber.  The  series  of 
smaller  explosions  as  the  ammunition  and  car- 
tridges went  off.  For  ten  awful  moments  this  con- 
tinued, bomb  followed  bomb,  explosion  followed 
explosion,  shrieks,  cries,  groans.  It  was  a  living 
hell.  My  God,  these  aircraft  are  more  to  be  feared 
than  those  infernal  guns.     I — I " 


A  TRUE  STORY  OF  THE  WAR     143 

Here  the  old  Father's  narrative  ends,  and  across 
the  page  were  two  dull  brown  splashes,  that  tell 
their  story  but  too  plainly. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

HEROISM  IN  THE  AIR 

Somebody  censored  was  engaged  In  a  long  re- 
connaissance trip  into  the  enemy's  country,  and  had 
already  turned  home  when  a  shrapnel  shell  burst 
immediately  beneath  his  aeroplane,  smashed  part 
of  the  body  of  the  machine,  and  shattered  the 
pilot's  leg.  Rendered  unconscious,  he  lost  control, 
the  aeroplane  began  to  nose-dive  to  the  earth,  and 
fell  5000  feet.  From  this  point  the  observer  takes 
up  the  story: — 

"I  have  given  up  all  hope,  the  earth  seemed 
rushing  up  to  meet  us,  and  I  prayed  that  our  agony 
might  not  be  prolonged.  I  shut  my  eyes  and 
waited  for  the  final  crash,  when,  wonder  of  won- 
ders, the  machine  began  to  right  herself.  Hardly 
daring  to  believe  my  eyes,  I  looked  to  the  pilot's 
seat.  The  headlong  rush  through  the  cool  air 
must  have  brought  him  round,  and  he  was  making 
strenuous  efforts  to  regain  control. 

"Luckily  the  enemy  had  given  us  up  for  lost, 
had  ceased  to  shoot,  and  we  immediately  began  to 

144 


HEROISM  IN  THE  AIR  145 

climb  again.  Then  the  Germans  opened  fire,  and 
we  only  escaped  with  our  lives  through  the  superb 

pilotage  of  L ,  with  one  leg  shattered  and 

blood  flowing  in  streams.  At  8000  feet  he  again 
seemed  to  be  sinking.  I  hastily  scrawled  a  note 
urging  him  to  descend.  He  read  it,  shook  his  head 
decidedly,  pointed  to  me  with  a  smile  on  his  white 
drawn  face,  then  pointed  in  the  direction  of  our 
lines,  and  carried  on. 

"At  times  he  would  faint,  and  then,  recovering 
himself,  redouble  his  efforts.  At  last  we  were  over 
the  lines,  but  it  seemed  utterly  impossible  that  he 
should  be  able  to  land  the  machine  in  his  condition. 
But  he  did.  Choosing  a  large  green  meadow  about 
three  miles  behind  the  trenches,  he  landed  as  gen- 
tly and  as  easily  as  if  he  had  only  been  up  for  a 
practice  flight,  brought  the  machine  to  a  stop,  and 
fainted  dead  away." 

This  gallant  pilot,  as  he  lay  mortally  wounded 
in  the  field  hospital,  and  knowing  that  he  was  dy- 
ing, thought  only  of  the  terrible  time  his  observer 
must  have  had.  Thus  he  wrote  to  his  mother  in 
England : — 

"Mummy  dear, 

"Don't  be  alarmed  at  my  little  escapade; 
will  be  all  right  again  soon  and  be  with  you.  .  .  . 
Poor  P ,  what  an  awful  time  he  must  have 


146  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

had  after  I  fainted  and  we  were  nose-diving  head- 
long for  the  ground! 

"P.  S. — Please  don't  go  talking  about  this  busi- 
ness to  all  the  old  dowagers  of  your  acquaintance." 

Officer  R M was  on  a  bomb-dropping 

and  reconnaissance  expedition  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Y in  the  late  summer  of  19 15.  When 

twenty  miles  from  our  lines  he  was  hit  by  shrapnel 
and  mortally  wounded  in  the  thigh,  but  making  up 
his  mind  not  to  be  taken  prisoner,  he  kept  bravely 
on,  crossed  the  lines,  and  disdaining  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  cover  thus  afforded  and  land  in  the 
first  available  spot,  kept  resolutely  on  to  the  aero- 
drome from  which  he  had  set  out,  though  losing 
blood  rapidly  and  knowing  he  had  not  long  to  live. 
There  he  made  a  beautiful  landing,  handed  in  his 
report,  and  fell  unconscious,  never  to  come  round 
again. 

Early  in  the  present  year  an  air  raid  was  organ- 
ized to  bomb  a  town  not  far  from  Constantinople. 
The  raid  was  duly  carried  out,  but  on  the  journey 
home  one  of  our  aeroplanes  was  hit  by  a  shell  and 
forced  to  come  to  earth  in  marsh  lands  beside  a 
small  river.  Immediately  a  party  of  Turkish  in- 
fantry rushed  up  to  take  charge  of  the  craft,  but 
before  they  could  reach  it  another  of  our  machines 
swooped  down  on  the  scene  and  landed  close  by. 


HEROISM  IN  THE  AIR  147 

The  pilot  jumped  out,  ran  across  a  field  swept  by 
Turkish  rifle  fire,  picked  up  the  wounded  pilot, 
and  placing  him  on  his  back,  staggered  across  to 
his  own  machine.  Still  subjected  to  a  violent  fusil- 
lade, he  unthrottled  his  engine,  and  with  the 
wounded  man  carried  before  him,  bravely  flew 
off  and  made  his  own  base  again. 


PART  III 
OTHER  CRAFT  AND  THE  FUTURE 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  AIRSHIP 

The  airship  is  the  aristocrat  of  the  air.  In 
jealousy  and  scorn  the  aeroplane  may  refer  to  her 
as  "gasbag,"  "sausage";  may  poke  fun  at  her  by 
reason  of  her  unwieldy  size,  and  laugh  at  her  lack 
of  speed;  she  still  looks  down  on  that  craft  with 
as  much  haughty  disdain  as  a  duchess  of  royal 
blood  would  bestow  on  a  noiiveau  riche.  Has 
she  not  a  pedigree  as  long  as  may  be  forgot- 
ten? 

She  may  trace  her  genealogy  back  to  the  Greek 
mythology  and  may  number  among  her  progeni- 
tors such  men  as  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  Cyrano  de 
Bergerac,  Francisco  de  Lana,  Joseph  Montgolfier, 
Blanchard,  Santos  Dumont  and  Count  Zeppelin. 
The  aeroplane  is  but  an  invention  of  the  Twentieth 
Century  I 

Italy  was  the  birthplace  of  the  lighter-than-air 
craft;  throughout  the  interesting  history  of  the  air- 
ship the  names  of  famous  Italian  scientists  pre- 
dominate, and  particularly  those  of  the  monastic 
order.      Perhaps   it  was  that  convent  life   was 

151 


152  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

inducive  to  study;  untrammeled  by  the  cares  of 
the  outside  world,  men  turned  their  attention  to 
the  sciences  and  developed  their  imaginations. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  we  find  that  to-day  the  Italian 
airships  are  the  finest  in  the  world. 

But  although  Italy  may  have  done  more  than 
the  other  nations,  history  tells  us  that  it  was  two 
Frenchmen,  Stephen  and  Joseph  Montgolfier,  who 
were  the  first  to  bring  the  lighter-than-air  craft 
prominently  before  the  world. 

The  story  goes  that  while  rowing,  Stephen's  silk 
coat  fell  overboard  into  the  water.  It  was  placed 
over  a  hot  oven  to  dry,  and  watching  it,  Joseph 
noticed  that  the  hot  air  tended  to  make  it  rise. 
The  upshot  of  the  affair  was  the  Montgolfier 
balloon. 

Throughout  history  the  lighter-than-air  craft 
las  figured  prominently  in  warfare.  In  the  Franco- 
Prussian  War,  during  the  siege  of  Paris  alone, 
as  many  as  66  balloons  left  the  stricken  city,  carry- 
ing 60  pilots,  102  passengers,  409  carrier  pigeons, 
9  tons  of  letters  and  telegrams,  and  6  dogs. 

Gaston  Tissandier  went  over  the  German  lines 
and  dropped  10,000  copies  of  a  proclamation 
addressed  to  the  soldiers,  asking  for  peace,  yet 
declaring  that  France  would  fight  to  the  bitter 
end. 

In  the  American  Civil  War  an  aeronaut  named 
La  Fontaine  went  up  in  a  balloon  over  an  enemy 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  AIRSHIP     153 

camp,  made  his  observation,  rose  higher  into  the 
air,  and  succeeded  in  getting  into  a  cross-current, 
which  carried  him  back  to  his  place  of  departure. 
The  first  cross-channel  flight  was  made  by 
balloon  in  1785,  by  Blanchard,  who  had  with  him 
an  American  doctor  named  Jefferies,  together  with 
a  large  supply  of  provisions,  ballast  and  oars. 
This  weighed  the  balloon  down  to  such  an  extent 
that  she  almost  sank  into  the  sea  a  few  moments 
after  starting.  Ballast  was  thrown  overboard,  and 
she  rose,  only  to  sink  again.  More  ballast  was 
dropped.  Then  they  rose  into  the  air  and  eventu- 
ally landed  in  safety  on  the  hills  behind  Calais. 

Having  thus  shortly  outlined  the  development 
of  the  one,  we  will  endeavor  to  discover  the  funda- 
mental difference  between  aeroplane  and  airship. 
It  is  simply  the  matter  of  "lift"  obtained  in  the 
case  of  the  latter  from  the  property  of  being 
lighter  than  air,  whereas  the  other  craft  being 
heavier  than  air  must  obtain  its  "lift"  by  mechan- 
ical propulsion. 

The  airship  is  merely  an  improvement  on  the 
old-fashioned  balloon :  a  balloon  to  which  mechan- 
ical propulsion  has  been  applied.  Different  in 
shape,  indeed,  and  fitted  out  with  many  modern 
improvements,  its  flight  is  still  governea  by  the 
same  laws  of  "aerostatics." 

For  practical  purposes  we  will  divide  the  airship 


154  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

into  two  portions :  the  envelope  or  balloon,  and  the 
car.  Atmospheric  conditions  influence  the  envelope 
to  no  small  degree.  The  effect  of  heat  upon  gas — 
with  which  the  envelope  is  filled — is  to  make  it 
expand,  and  consequently  cause  the  craft  to  rise. 
Cold,  on  the  other  hand,  causes  the  gas  to  contract, 
and  the  craft  to  descend.  Air  pressure  is  another 
factor  which  must  be  taken  into  account,  and  this 
is  greatest  at  sea-level.  The  greater  the  altitude, 
the  less  the  pressure  becomes,  and  the  less  pressure 
on  the  outside  surface  of  the  envelope  the  easier  it 
is  for  the  gas  to  expand;  but  this  is  compensated 
for  by  the  fact  that  the  atmosphere  is  considerably 
cooler  at  a  high  altitude. 

There  are  three  types  of  airship:  the  "non- 
rigid,"  in  which  the  two  portions,  the  car  and  the 
envelope,  are  entirely  separate  portions,  being  held 
together  by  means  of  rigging;  "semi-rigged,"  in 
which  the  car  is  partly  attached  to  the  envelope,  a 
type  greatly  favored  by  French  and  Italians ;  and 
the  "rigid"  airship,  of  which  both  car  and  envelope 
are  in  the  same  framework.  The  Zeppelin  Is  of 
the  latter  class. 

Like  other  great  airships  the  Zeppelin  does  not 
rely  on  one  single  balloon  for  "lift."  Instead, 
the  envelope  forms  merely  the  outer  covering  for 
eighteen  balloonettes,  which  can  be  regulated  in 
the  matter  of  expansion  and  contraction  from  the 
control-car  of  one  of  the  three  gondolas  below. 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  AIRSHIP     155 

We  have  by  no  means  yet  seen  these  wonderful 
craft  at  their  deadliest;  the  German  pilots  are 
extremely  brave  men,  yet  lack  that  initiative  and 
dash  peculiar  to  the  British  Air  Service.  Were 
the  position  reversed,  one  dreads  to  think  what 
might  happen  to  this  country. 

The  future  is  all  with  the  airship,  in  the  role  of 
commerce-bearing  aircraft.  The  aeroplane  and  all 
heavier-than-air  craft  are  of  little  value  save  as 
units  of  war,  and  even  then  their  uses  are  infini- 
tesimal when  compared  with  those  of  the  Zeppelin. 
And  the  secret  of  the  success  of  the  Zeppelin  is  that 
she  has  the  "lift,"  double  and  treble  the  lift  of 
the  aeroplane,  and  is  developing  beyond  belief, 
whereas,  in  proportion,  the  aeroplane  develops 
little  year  by  year. 

Taking  everything  Into  consideration  we  must 
have  Zeppelins  I  It  is  imperative  for  the  future 
safety  of  our  nation.  The  longer  we  submit  thus 
meekly  to  these  aerial  invasions,  the  longer  will 
the  war  go  on.  The  German  people  in  the  past 
have  been  intoxicated  with  Zeppelins.  Weak, 
hungry  and  dispirited,  their  flagging  spirits  have 
again  and  again  been  whipped  up  into  martial 
ardor  by  the  fantastic  and  bragging  reports  issued 
by  the  General  Staff  in  Berlin.  One  Zeppelin  raid 
was  of  more  value  to  the  moral  of  the  German 
nation  than  two  great  victories  on  the  land.  The 
giant  craft  to  them  is  more  than  a  mere  engine 


156  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

• 

of  warfare  and  destruction,  It  Is  a  fetish,  almost  a 
religion;  thus  after  every  raid  the  bells  are  rung. 
The  streets  are  beflagged  and  decorated,  and  the 
inhabitants  become  mad  with  joy.  And  we  must 
not  consider  the  moral  effects  alone.  From  a 
military  point  of  view,  at  the  time  of  writing  the 
enemy  air-raids  necessitate  the  authorities  retain- 
ing numbers  of  valuable  aircraft  and  many  trained 
and  expert  pilots,  not  to  mentain  anti-aircraft  guns 
and  their  crews,  which  would  all  be  of  great  value 
on  the  other  side.  Further,  Germany  defeated  on 
land,  and  deprived  of  her  fleet  at  sea,  but  still  in 
possession  of  her  Zeppelins,  is  a  military  power, 
and  a  very  strong  military  power  of  the  future. 
We,  In  Great  Britain,  have  lost  for  ever  the  nat- 
ural advantage  we  once  possessed  of  being  an 
island.  Thanks  to  the  vigilance  and  strength  of 
our  Navy,  we  have  held  the  narrow  seas  with  a 
firm  hold,  that  so  far  no  other  nation  has  been 
able  to  overcome.  Now  we  are  always  open  to 
invasion  from  the  air;  and  the  sea,  which  formerly 
afforded  us  protection,  is  a  serious  disadvantage, 
in  that  Invading  aircraft  can  creep  over  those 
broad  lonely  spaces,  and  come  down  upon  us  be- 
fore we  are  even  aware  of  their  proximity. 

How  can  airships'  raids  be  encountered?  There 
are  three  methods.  The  first  is,  by  anti-aircraft 
artillery;  secondly,  by  airship;  and  lastly,  by  aero- 
plane.   The  first  method — that  of  gun-fire — is  ex- 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  AIRSHIP     157 

tremely  unreliable.  This  is  not  the  fault  of  the 
men  so  much,  nor  of  the  guns  with  which  they 
fire,  but  rather  of  the  conditions  under  which  they 
work.  Practice  with  anti-aircraft  guns  is  rare  and 
insufficient;  and  the  best  part  of  the  firing  takes 
place  at  night  at  a  rapidly  moving  object,  many 
thousands  of  feet  up  in  the  air.  Aeroplanes  are 
greatly  handicapped  by  want  of  "lift" — a  quality 
which  goes  far  to  render  aircraft  either  useful  or 
useless.  To  obtain  "lift"  the  latter  craft  relies 
solely  on  the  high  power  of  its  engine,  whereas, 
with  the  Zeppelin,  "lift"  is  obtained  by  two 
means:  one  by  the  envelope,  which  contains  gas 
several  times  lighter  than  air;  and  the  other,  as 
with  the  aeroplane,  by  engine  power.  Thus  we 
have  double  the  lifting  power  with  a  dirigible  than 
with  an  aeroplane,  and  hence  double,  and  in  actual 
fact  treble,  the  war  lift;  and  treble  the  amount 
of  bombs,  ammunition,  and  machine-guns  can  be 
carried. 

The  effect  the  enemy  hopes  to  gain  by  his  con- 
stant Zeppelin  raids,  is  partly  moral,  partly  mili- 
tary. To  achieve  the  latter  it  is  necessary  that  the 
enemy  airman  destroy  some  position  or  place  of 
military  importance,  as  a  powder-factory,  an  arse- 
nal, a  large  camp,  an  important  railway  junction,  a 
munitions  factory,  a  naval  dockyard,  an  ordnance 
factory,  or  a  similar  area.  But  in  very  few  in- 
stances have  the  raiding  Zeppelins  touched  either 


158  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

of  these  places.  Thus  they  have  achieved  but 
little  military  result.  The  moral  result  attempted 
has  been  to  frighten  and  harass  the  inhabitants  of 
this  country  until — Germany  had  a  mental  vision 
— they  would  be  groveling  on  their  knees  in  the 
dust,  begging  the  Government  to  sue  for  peace. 
We  have  already  dealt  with  the  moral  effect  these 
raids  have  on  their  own  people.  By  aid  of  lying 
and  bombastic  reports  the  enemy  do  not  fail  to 
impress — and  greatly  impress — neutral  countries. 
Some  readers  will  perhaps  remember  it  was  after 
a  big  Zeppelin  raid  on  this  country  that  Bulgaria 
joined  the  Central  Powers.  The  Germans  know 
only  too  well  that  we  do  not  possess  large  airships 
of  our  own.  Suppose  we  did;  what  would  be  the 
panic  and  consternation  caused  in  Berlin  by  the 
appearance  over  that  city  of  a  squadron  of  British 
bomb-dropping  Zeppelins,  and  how  far  would  it 
go  to  shorten  the  war? 

During  the  last  few  months  we  have  seen  the 
Zeppelin  in  a  more  useful  and  more  dangerous 
aspect,  namely  in  the  capacity  of  Naval  Scout.  Let 
us  consider  what  are  the  main  duties  of  a  light- 
cruiser  fleet  at  sea ;  they  are  of  a  very  similar  na- 
ture to  those  of  the  cavalry,  namely  to  form  a  pro- 
tective screen  to  the  main  body,  and  to  advance  as 
nearly  as  possible  to  the  enemy  to  discover  the 
exact  disposition  of  his  forces.  In  one  word,  their 
main  duty  is  scouting.    In  this  respect  the  enemy 


EVOLUTION  OF  THE  AIRSHIP      159 

went  one  better  than  ourselves.  He  built  Zeppe- 
lins, and  succeeded  in  accomplishing  with  a  single 
Zeppelin  that  which  in  former  days  had  required 
a  fleet  of  light  cruisers.  Without  necessarily  run- 
ning any  risk,  the  giant  airship  at  a  height  of  10,- 
000  feet  has  a  view  extending  on  a  clear  day  to  as 
much  as  thirty  miles,  and  some  three-hundred 
square  miles  of  sea  surface.  What  cruiser  look- 
out can  claim  a  perspective  equal  to  that?  At 
thirty  miles,  or  twenty-five  or  even  twenty,  the 
Zeppelin  pilot  is  well  out  of  range  of  the  enemy 
shells,  and  with  his  wireless  instrument,  which  has 
another  range  of  thirty  miles,  can  signal  to  the 
admiral  of  the  fleet  when  the  enemy  is  yet  sixty 
miles  off.  This  view  explains  the  fact  why  the 
two  fleets  have  so  seldom  been  at  grips  in  the  two 
years  of  war.  The  enemy,  by  means  of  his  aerial 
scouts,  must  oft  and  again  have  been  warned  of 
the  proximity  of  the  British  Fleet.  The  official 
account  of  the  Jutland  battle  stated  that  the 
weather  was  dull  and  misty;  hence  the  Zeppelins 
would  have  been  unable  successfully  to  perform 
their  usual  duties. 

The  extreme  radius  of  Zeppelin  activity  is  usu- 
ally considered  to  be  600  miles  out,  600  miles 
home,  and  judged  from  the  three  principal  Zeppe- 
lin centers — Heligoland,  Brussels  and  Friedrichs- 
haven — embraces,  with  the  possible  exception  of 
a  small  and  un'unportant  portion  of  the  west  coast 


i6o  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

of  Ireland  and  north  coast  of  Scotland,  every  city, 
military  camp,  munition  factory,  dockyard  and 
industrial  center  in  Great  Britain. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LAWS  OF  THE   AIR 

At  a  recent  coroner's  inquest  on  the  death  of  a 
young  Service  pilot  in  England,  an  instructor  of 
the  flying  school  at  which  he  was  being  trained, 
stated  in  the  course  of  his  evidence  that  if  the  pi- 
lots— there  had  been  a  horrifying  collision  in  mid- 
air— had  only  been  familiar  with  aerial  rules  and 
regulations,  the  accident  would  never  have  oc- 
curred. 

In  this  particular  Instance  one  machine  had  been 
coming  down,  while  another  was  just  leaving  the 
ground.  Both  of  the  pilots  were  aware  of  the 
danger  they  were  in,  but  neither  knew  the  right 
course  to  pursue.  Result — collision  and  death. 
Had  both  of  them  carried  out  the  Royal  Aero 
Club's  regulation:  that  an  aeroplane  passing  an- 
other aeroplane  in  mid-air  must  leave  at  least  ten 
meters'  space  between  the  extreme  wing-tips  and 
always  pass  to  the  right  of  the  approaching  craft, 
both  of  them  would  have  been  alive  to-day. 

So  very  few  of  the  public  outside  the  flying 
world  are  aware  that,  as  navigation  of  the  sea  is 

i6i 


1 62  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

ordered  by  the  Navigation  Act,  so  is  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  air  by  the  Aerial  Navigation  Acts  of 
191 1  and  1 9 13,  and  by  the  rules  and  regulations 
of  the  Royal  Aero  Club,  which  latter  organization 
previous  to  the  war  controlled  all  matters  aero- 
nautical and  still  controls  the  granting  of  pilot's 
certificates. 

Even  in  the  ballooning  days  a  charter  was 
drawn  up  at  a  conference  at  Brussels,  which  or- 
dained that  every  private  balloon — that  is  to  say, 
one  not  in  the  hands  of  the  naval  or  military  au- 
thorities— must  be  registered  and  have  a  name  and 
number,  which  should  be  printed  in  large  letters 
on  the  body  of  the  balloon.  The  place  of  resi- 
dence of  the  owner  must  also  be  stated,  and  the 
number  and  the  place  of  origin  be  printed  in  red. 
Every  ascent  by  a  private  person  must  be  under 
the  control  of  a  state  official.  Government  bal- 
loons, on  the  other  hand,  are  not  expected  to 
carry  papers,  but  private  balloons  must  have  a 
copy  of  the  official  particulars  and  a  list  of  the 
passengers.  A  balloon  must  be  identified  In  the 
same  way  as  a  ship,  and  must  carry  a  flag,  fas- 
tened to  the  net  half-way  down  the  balloon,  and 
this  must  be  recognizable  both  by  its  shape  and 
coloring,  and  be  properly  mounted  in  position. 
A  journal  must  be  kept  and  the  man  in  charge 
must  produce  his  certificate  on  demand. 

These  latter  rules  also  apply  to  airships,  but  not 


LAWS  OF  THE  AIR  163 

to  aeroplanes.  These  types  of  aircraft  are  too 
numerous  to  be  able  to  identify  singly,  but  there 
are  many  other  rules  to  which  they  must  submit. 
For  instance — flying  over  London  and  similar 
crowded  areas  is  prohibited;  or,  in  the  words  of 
the  R.  A.  C. :  "Flying  to  the  danger  of  the  pub- 
lic is  prohibited,  particularly  unnecessary  flights 
over  towns,  or  thickly  populated  areas,  or  over 
places  where  crouds  are  temporarily  assembled,  or 
over  public  enclosures  at  aerodromes  at  such  a 
height  as  to  involve  danger  to  the  public.  Fly- 
ing is  also  prohibited  over  River  Regattas,  Race 
meetings,  meetings  for  public  games  and  sports, 
except  flights  specifically  arranged  for  in  writing 
with  the  promoters  of  such  Regattas,  Meetings, 
etc." 

If  he  disregard  any  of  these  regulations,  the 
airman  is  liable  to  a  fine  not  exceeding  £20  and 
suspension  of  his  flying  certificate. 

The  first  Aerial  Navigation  Act  of  191 1  was 
not  in  reality  a  Navigation  Act  at  all,  but  although 
that  was  its  title,  it  was  described  as  "An  Act  to 
provide  for  the  protection  of  the  public  against 
dangers  arising  from  the  Navigation  of  Aircraft." 
The  penalties  attached  thereto  were  exceedingly 
heavy  and  provided  that  any  airman  disregarding 
the  Act  would  be  liable  after  conviction  on  indict- 
ment or  on  summary  conviction  to  imprisonment 
for  a  term  not  exceeding  six  months,  or  to  a  fine 


1 64  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

not  exceeding  £200,  or  to  both  such  imprisonment 
and  fine. 

The  Act  included  various  prohibited  flying 
areas,  mostly  in  the  neighborhood  of  arsenals, 
munition  factories,  and  naval  dockyards,  or  sim- 
ilar military  areas. 

Certain  conditions  were  imposed  on  aircraft 
landing  in  this  country  from  abroad,  as  that  the 
person  in  charge  of  the  aircraft,  before  commenc- 
ing a  voyage  to  the  United  Kingdom,  must  apply 
for  a  clearance  to  a  duly  authorized  British  Con- 
sular Officer.  He  must  make  a  written  applica- 
tion, which  states  clearly  the  name  and  registered 
number  of  the  craft;  the  type,  the  name,  national- 
ity, and  the  place  of  residence  of  the  owner  or 
person  In  charge,  and  of  every  member  of  the 
crew;  and  the  name,  profession,  nationality  and 
place  of  residence  of  every  passenger  (if  any) ,  the 
nature  of  the  cargo  (if  any),  the  approximate 
time  of  departure,  place  of  departure,  the  Intended 
landing-place  in  the  United  Kingdom,  the  pro- 
posed destination,  and  the  object  of  the  voyage. 

Having  settled  the  matters  of  procedure,  it  was 
further  added  that  "no  person  in  any  aircraft 
entering  the  United  Kingdom  should  carry,  or 
allow  to  be  carried,  In  the  aircraft,  any  goods,  the 
importation  of  which  Is  prohibited  by  the  laws  re- 
lating to  customs;  any  goods  chargeable  upon  im- 
portation into  the  United  Kingdom  with  any  duty 


LAWS  OF  THE  AIR  165 

or  customs,  except  such  small  quantities  as  have 
been  placed  on  board  at  the  place  of  departure, 
as  being  necessary  for  the  use  during  the  voyage 
of  the  persons  conveyed  therein,  any  photographic 
apparatus,  carrier  or  homing  pigeons,  explosives 
or  firearms,  or  any  mails." 

On  the  return  journey  the  aircraft  Is  not  per- 
mitted to  leave  unless  there  be  at  least  one  British 
representative,  approved  by  the  authorized  offi- 
cer, on  board.  No  photographic  or  wireless  ap- 
paratus, etc.,  shall  be  carried,  and  no  mails. 

Foreign,  naval,  or  military  aircraft  must  not 
pass  over,  nor  land  within  any  port  of  the  United 
Kingdom,  nor  the  territorial  waters  thereof,  ex- 
cept on  the  express  invitation,  or  with  the  express 
permission,  previously  obtained,  of  His  Majesty's 
Government. 

None  of  the  foregoing  orders  applies  to  naval 
or  military  aircraft,  belonging  to,  or  employed 
in  the  service  of  His  Majesty. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AERIAL   COMBAT 

With  every  combat  in  mId-aIr  some  new  theory 
Is  set  up,  some  new  conclusion  arrived  at,  and  as 
yet  nothing  can  be  definite.  We  may  say  for 
practical  purposes  that  the  strategical  work  is  con- 
fined to  seaplane  and  airship-scouting  with  the 
fleets  at  sea,  and  long-distance  aeroplane  raids  into 
the  enemy's  country;  tactical  work  to  reconnais- 
sance trips  over  the  neighborhood  of  the  lines 
and  the  direction  of  artillery  fire.  The  battle  for- 
mation of  the  aeroplane  squadron  is  now,  and 
will  in  the  future  be  similar  to  that  of  a  fleet  at 
sea.  Even  now  the  two  methods  of  battle  are 
closely  akin. 

There  are  three  distinct  phases  of  aerial  combat 
to  be  considered — aeroplane  versus  aeroplane, 
airship  against  airship,  and  aeroplane  against  air- 
ship. It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  decide  which  is  the 
more  useful  as  a  fighting  unit,  but  thus  far  one 
is  inclined  to  say  the  light,  high-powered  aero- 
plane.    Zeppelins  and  airships  are  for  the  most 

i66 


AERIAL  COMBAT  167 

part  clumsy  and  unwieldly.  Seaplanes,  again,  are 
usually  heavy  and  slow  to  answer  to  their  con- 
trols. 

The  important  factors  are  the  lifting  power  of 
the  machine  and  weather  conditions.  The  prop- 
erty of  "lift"  is  determined  on  the  one  hand  by 
mechanical  devices,  and  on  the  other  by  the  bal- 
loon portion  of  the  craft  which  is  lighter  than  the 
air.  Lift  spells  speed,  endurance,  and  climb- 
ing powers,  and  therefore  the  machine  with  the 
greater  lift  is  the  better  equipped  for  fighting  pur- 
poses. 

Wind  and  Cloud 

Next  in  order  of  importance  is  wind.  The 
engine  may  be  giving  a  speed  of  sixty  miles  per 
hour,  and  the  craft  be  flying  in  the  teeth  of  a 
20  m.p.h.  wind,  thus  its  actual  speed  would  be 
forty,  not  sixty,  miles  an  hour.  Again,  two  enemy 
machines,  A  and  B,  are  approaching  one  another 
to  give  battle.  Both  have  a  speed  of  60  m.p.h.,  but 
A  is  flying  "down"  with  a  fifteen-mile  wind  at  the 
back  of  him.  Their  relative  speeds  would  be: 
A  seventy-five,  B  forty-five,  or  an  advantage  of 
thirty  miles  an  hour  for  A;  but  on  the  turn — the 
majority  of  aerial  combats  are  fought  out  on  the 
principal  of  circling  and  wheeling — the  advan- 
tage would  be  transferred  to  B.     Good  pilotage 


1 68  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

is  of  extreme  Importance;  the  pilot  who  Is  able 
to  get  the  most  out  of  his  machine  and  knows  it 
best  will  almost  Invariably  gain  the  day. 

Clouds  are  often  made  great  use  of  by  pilots. 
Almost  every  day  we  read  of  a  machine  dashing 
out  from  behind  a  bank  of  cloud,  and  taking  an- 
other by  surprise.  On  the  other  hand,  clouds  may 
prove  disastrous  to  both  combatants,  owing  to  the 
peculiar  property  they  possess  of  influencing  the 
stability  of  the  machine. 

Lift,  however,  is  still  the  great  factor,  since  the 
fight  always  develops  into  a  struggle  for  the  up- 
per berth,  and  is  usually  fought  in  an  upward  di- 
rection. It  is  climb,  climb,  climb;  then,  with  the 
wind  at  his  back,  a  last  swoop  down  on  the  enemy 
— taking  him  in  his  most  vulnerable  position — 
and  the  fight  Is  over.  Various  expedients  are  made 
use  of  to  gain  this  end,  such  as  getting  between  an 
opponent  and  the  sun,  "diving"^  suddenly  and 
"looping."  With  either  aeroplane  or  airship  it  is 
the  uppermost  position  that  counts. 

The  type  of  craft  most  useful  for  this  work  is 
the  high-engined  biplane  of  the  "tractor" — pro- 
peller to  the  fore — ^type,  the  machine-gun  firing 
through  the  blades  of  the  propeller.  The  essen- 
tials of  these  machines  are  speed  and  ability  to 
climb  quickly.  The  slower  machines,  with  greater 
powers  of  endurance,  are  more  useful  for  bomb- 
raiding  and  reconnaissance  purposes. 


AERIAL  COMBAT  169 

"Lift"  the  Factor 

Airship  combat  has  yet  to  materialize.  Many 
opinions  and  theories,  often  widely  conflicting, 
have  been  put  forward  concerning  the  possibili- 
ties and  probabilities  of  such  conflicts,  but  noth- 
ing definite  can  be  advanced  until  a  battle  between 
airships  has  taken  place.  The  opinion  of  the  ma- 
jority of  the  experts  is  that  an  airship  would  be 
little  better  than  useless  to  meet  an  airship,  and 
for  our  own  particular  requirements — that  is,  the 
repelling  of  Zeppelin  raids — aeroplanes  are  of 
more  use ;  which  brings  us  to  the  combat  between 
aeroplane  and  airship. 

Considering  first  their  main  qualities:  the  air- 
ship has  great  "lifting"  powers,  is  more  heavily 
armed,  can  climb  at  a  faster  rate,  and  has  greater 
powers  of  endurance;  whereas  the  aeroplane  has 
greater  speed,  is  more  easily  maneuvered,  and  is 
less  unwieldy. 

The  tendency  of  the  Zeppelin  commanders  is 
to  increase  rather  than  decrease  altitude  with 
every  raid,  which  renders  attack  by  aeroplane 
more  diflicult;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  aeroplanes 
are  being  built  which  can  develop  so  remarkable 
a  speed  that  they  will  soon  be  able  to  climb  above 
Zeppelin  altitude.  When  that  occurs  the  Zeppelin 
menace  will  end  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  AIR — THE   WAR — ^AND   THE    FUTURE 

Had  either  Orville  or  Wilbur  Wright,  when 
they  first  glided  down  the  low  sand-dunes  of  the 
Pacific  shore  on  a  frail,  uncontrollable  air  machine, 
in  the  earlier  part  of  this  century,  or  Count  Zep- 
pelin, as  he  worked  unceasingly  on  his  giant  air- 
ship, been  blessed  with  the  imagination  and  the 
gifts  of  a  seer — ^what  remarkable  vision  would 
have  been  theirs! 

To  see  that  frail  glider  increase  and  grow  into 
a  motor-propelled,  double-winged  aeroplane,  dart- 
ing through  the  air  with  the  speed  of  a  cyclone: 
that  unwieldy  airship,  capable  at  the  most  of  re- 
maining for  half-an-hour  in  the  air  at  a  time,  de- 
velop into  a  craft,  to  which  the  crossing  and 
re-crossing  of  the  wide  expanse  of  the  North  Sea 
was  an  everyday  occurrence :  to  see  the  aeroplane 
climb  up  to  18,000  feet  in  the  sky,  to  attain  a 
speed  of  over  100  miles  per  hour,  and  remain  in 
the  air  for  hours  on  end.  .  .  . 

The  Zeppelin  originally  intended  to  be  a  peace- 
ful carrier  of  the  commerce  of  the  world,  con- 

170 


THE  FUTURE  171 

verted  into  a  ship  of  war,  with  machine-guns 
mounted  fore  and  aft;  and  with  a  cargo  on  board 
deadly  enough  to  wreck  the  half  of  a  city.  .  .  . 
The  far-flung  battle-line  of  Flanders,  over  which 
there  creep,  like  great  gray  wasps,  French,  Bel- 
gian, German  and  British  aeroplanes  alike;  the 
elongated  shapes  of  raiding  Zeppelins,  darting 
hither  and  thither  over  a  darkened  London,  among 
piercing  searchlight  rays  and  bursting  shrapnel! 
Yet  a  few  years,  and  the  shapes  and  structures  may 
undergo  even  more  marvelous  change;  for  every 
talent  and  accomplishment,  every  art  and  science 
of  modem  civilization  will  be  devoted  to  the  de- 
velopment of  this  new  science  of  aeronautics. 

The  War  and  Aviation 

One  may  say,  without  much  fear  of  contradic- 
tion, that  the  war  has  done  more  towards  the 
development  of  aviation,  and  has  rendered  more 
things  possible  to  be  done  in  two  years  than  would 
have  been  accomplished  in  ten  years  under  pre- 
wartime  conditions. 

It  has  necessitated  the  production  of  many  thou- 
sands of  craft  of  varying  degrees  of  size  and 
shape,  and  the  number  of  factories  engaged  upon 
the  production  of  aeroplanes,  airships,  and  spare 
parts  for  the  respective  craft  has  trebled.  For 
one  trained   and  experienced  aviator,   in    19 14, 


172  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

there  are  to-day  at  least  ten,  if  anything  more  ca- 
pable, and  certainly  better  experienced. 

As  a  test  of  the  durability  and  the  capabilities 
of  aircraft,  flying  under  war  conditions  cannot  be 
equaled,  for  various  reasons.  Firstly,  maneuvers, 
which  in  times  of  peace  would  be  considered  risky 
to  life  and  thus  avoided,  must  be  endured  daily  by 
pilots  flying  over  the  battle  area.  Flying  under 
shell-fire  frequently  necessitates  maneuvers,  en- 
tirely unaccounted  for  by  the  constructors  of  the 
machine,  which  put  a  very  great  strain  on  the 
framework,  wings,  struts,  etc.  To  compensate  for 
such  strain,  every  wire,  strut,  and  part  of  the 
framework  is  constructed  of  a  strength  at  least 
eight  times  greater  than  that  of  the  actual  strength 
required.  Thus  the  weak  points  of  the  machine 
are  discovered,  also  the  centers  at  which  the  great- 
est strain  takes  place. 

Future  Types  of  Craft 

The  shape  and  general  build  of  the  aeroplane 
has  not  thus  far  changed  materially  from  the  orig- 
inal models  of  Orville  and  Wilbur  Wright,  save 
that  the  majority  of  the  modern  machines  are  trac- 
tors (i.  e.  with  the  engine  in  front),  whereas  the 
older  types  were  "pushers"  (with  engine  at  the 
rear).  The  new  principle  has  naturally  both  ad- 
vantage and  disadvantage.    With  the  tractor  en- 


THE  FUTURE  173 

gine,  the  machine  has  a  great  speed,  and  is  able 
to  climb  at  a  much  faster  rate,  but  the  inherent 
stability  of  the  craft  is  seriously  affected — by  shift- 
ing the  engine  80  per  cent,  of  the  total  weight  is 
moved  from  the  center  to  the  nose  of  the  aero- 
plane. To  compensate  for  this  the  wings  have 
had  to  be  extended,  and  this  has  added  consid- 
erably to  the  weight  in  aggregate.  But  this  evil 
has  again  been  remedied,  by  bringing  the  extreme 
ends  further  to  the  rear,  and  slightly  Indenting 
each  wing-tip:  in  a  word,  constructing  the  aero- 
plane more  and  more  after  the  fashion  of  a  bird 
in  flight.  Such  is  the  peculiar  working  of  the  hu- 
man mind,  however,  that  when  some  new  theory 
or  substance  is  evolved,  similar  to  the  one  in  ques- 
tion, it  is  content  to  concentrate  on  the  original 
formula,  and  develops  that  rather  than  apply  the 
same  principles  to  an  entirely  new  formula.  Thus, 
after  some  twelve  years  of  flying,  we  have  only 
four  distinct  types  of  craft:  the  balloon,  the  air- 
ship, the  aeroplane,  and  the  seaplane — the  two 
former  being  very  similar  both  in  principle  and 
shape,  as  also  the  two  latter.  Exception  cannot 
be  made  for  the  "triplane,"  for  that  machine, 
with  three  planes,  has  the  same  shape  as  the  aero- 
plane. 

The  principles  of  aero-statics,  and  aero-dynam- 
ics by  no  means  confine  the  constructor  to  these 
two  standard  forms;  and  in  the  near  future  the 


174          THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

aeroplane  will  be  built  on  similar  lines  to  the 
ocean-going  liner,  and  the  airship  very  much  on 
the  same  principle. 

Development  in  size  and  speed  depend  on  fu- 
ture experimenting,  and  flights  have  already  been 
made  both  in  France  and  Russia  by  giant  aero- 
planes, in  which,  in  one  case  nine,  and  in  the  other 
fifteen  passengers,  exclusive  of  the  pilot  were 
carried  at  one  time ;  while  the  later  Zeppelins  are 
capable  of  lifting  to  a  height  of  over  12,000  feet, 
a  crew  of  thirty  odd,  with  a  further  weight  of 
bombs  and  war  material  aboard,  and  flying  dis- 
tances of  over  800  miles.  Again,  there  are  the 
orthropic  and  the  ornithropic  types  of  craft,  which 
their  inventors  claim  to  be  capable  of  rising  ver- 
tically from  the  ground  to  a  height  of  10,000  feet. 
Combining  these  principles  we  ought  within  the 
space  of  ten  years  to  be  in  possession  of  aircraft 
capable  of  flying  at  over  150  miles  an  hour,  with 
a  cargo  of  many  hundred  tons  aboard,  and  with  a 
radius  of  over  3,000  miles,  able  to  start  and  land 
with  ease  in  a  confined  space  about  the  size  of 
Leicester  Square.  The  aerial  landing  grounds 
will  be  the  flat  roofs  of  gigantic  buildings  specially 
constructed  in  the  center  of  London.  Automatic 
lifts  will  convey  the  passengers  from  the  air  level 
to  the  street  level,  where  they  will  be  deposited  in 
electric  trains,  running  in  all  directions.  Im- 
practicable, say  the  critics,  but  so  they  said  when 


THE  FUTURE  175 

Count  Zeppelin  and  the  Wrights  first  started  their 
experiments. 

Properties  of  War  and  Peace  Machines 

There  is  not,  and  there  never  was,  on  this  earth 
a  new  idea  so  well  deserving  of  examination  as 
the  science  of  Aeronautics.  The  history  of  that 
science  deals  with  the  most  momentous  invention 
in  the  history  of  civilization.  No  other  science 
allures  the  imagination  so  far  forward  into  the 
dim  future,  when  the  business  of  the  world  will 
be  carried  up  from  the  level  of  the  sea  and  the 
land  to  that  of  mid-air,  and  when  travel  will  be 
so  rapid  and  safe  that  space  will  almost  cease  to 
be  an  obstacle  to  man's  communications. 

The  proudest  inventions  of  the  late  nineteenth 
and  early  twentieth  centuries  are  but  of  yesterday 
when  compared  with  those  of  the  aeroplane  and 
airship.  It  is,  therefore,  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  we  should  consider  how  the  development  of 
aeronautics  will  affect  the  future  of  the  human 
race.  Under  the  present  war-time  conditions,  there 
exists  a  grave  danger  that  the  aeroplane  and  the 
airship  will  be  developed  too  much  for  war  pur- 
poses to  the  detriment  of  future  commercial  uses. 
The  qualities  mainly  required  by  the  war  machine, 
speed,  ability  to  climb  quickly,  and  compactness, 
differ  entirely  from  those  required  by  the  peace 


176  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

time  or  commerce-bearing  aircraft,  which  have 
ability  to  remain  in  the  air  for  a  great  space  of 
time,  and  to  fly  greater  distances.  The  extra  speed 
required  by  the  war  machine  may  easily  be  dis- 
pensed with  in  the  commerce-bearing  machines,  as 
also  may  altitude,  for  whereas  the  war  machine 
must  fly  at  a  height  of  over  12,000  feet,  a  height 
of  between  2000  and  3000  will  suffice  under  or- 
dinary conditions,  and  it  will  be  at  this  altitude 
that  the  best  part  of  the  flying  will  take  place  after 
the  war. 

Future  Navies  and  Armies  of  the  World 

How  will  aviation  affect  warfare  in  the  future? 
Will  it  abolish  entirely  this  undesirable  condition 
of  affairs,  or  will  it  serve  to  provide  added  induce- 
ments? It  is,  indeed,  a  debatable  point.  If  we 
incline  to  the  latter  view,  every  known  argument 
and  theory  points  to  the  fact  that  warfare  of  the 
future  will  be  to  all  intents  and  purposes  instan- 
taneous. There  will  be  no  preparatory  delay 
caused  by  the  necessity  of  placing  large  armies  in 
the  field,  of  gradually  marching  forward  to  es- 
tablish contact  with  the  enemy,  and  of  carrying 
out  skirmishes  which  may  be  prolonged  to  weeks 
and  months  before  the  actual  battle  takes  place. 
The  belligerent  fleets  will  set  off  in  the  dawn  or  in 
the  darkness,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  before  twelve 


THE  FUTURE  177 

hours  iiave  elapsed,  after  entering  into  the  con- 
flict, a  definite  decision  will  have  been  reached. 
For  the  airman,  there  is  no  falling  back  to  a  sec- 
ond line  of  trenches,  to  a  natural  position  heavily 
defended,  or  to  a  concrete  fortress  or  emplace- 
ment, or  to  fight  a  rearguard  action.  The  fight 
in  the  air  must  be  to  the  death,  without  quarter 
asked  or  given,  for  no  prisoners  can  be  taken. 
The  loss  of  men  and  material  will  be  tremend- 
ous. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  aviation  will  entirely  do 
away  with  fighting  on  land  and  sea,  but  it  is  very 
obvious  that  either  fleet  or  army  of  one  belliger- 
ent nation,  at  the  mercy  of  the  air  fleet  of  another 
nation,  will  be  in  a  very  helpless  position.  Should 
the  warfare  In  the  air  be  indecisive,  were  such  a 
condition  within  the  realm  of  reasonable  argu- 
ment, it  might  be  possible  for  the  fleet  or  army  to 
be  brought  into  action  with  advantage,  but  even 
this  is  doubtful.  As  regards  our  own  nation,  be- 
fore 1926,  the  Royal  Naval  Air  Service  will  be 
the  largest  and  most  important  service  in  Great 
Britain.  Possibly  there  will  be  a  single  Air  Ser- 
vice, and  before  ten  years  will  have  elapsed  It  will 
be  the  most  Important  of  all  the  British  services, 
and  will  be  composed  both  of  aeroplanes  and  air- 
ships. The  only  other  form  of  aircraft,  the  sea- 
plane, being  too  slow,  too  clumsy,  and  too  costly, 
will  long  ago  have  been  abandoned. 


178  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 


Peace  and  War  Uses  of  Aircraft 

Before  we  enter  upon  the  discussion  which  is 
the  subject  of  this  paragraph  we  wish  to  guard 
ourselves  against  one  misconception.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  readers  of  this  chapter  may  already  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  possible  to  develop 
aircraft  for  one  purpose,  and  one  purpose  only: 
that  is,  either  for  war  or  for  commerce;  and  im- 
possible to  develop  them  for  both.  This  would 
be  an  entirely  erroneous  idea.  It  is  true  that  we 
have  already  laid  stress  upon  the  fact  that  there 
is  a  very  imminent  danger  that  aircraft  may  be 
developed  too  greatly  for  war  purposes  to  the 
detriment  of  others,  but  provided  that  the  neces- 
sary precautions  are  taken,  there  is  yet  ample  time 
for  the  commerce-carrying  machine  to  be  devel- 
oped at  the  same  time  and  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  war  machine.  Within  a  very  short  time  we 
may  find  that  the  Super-Zeppelin  of  the  air  will 
have  entirely  replaced  not  only  the  Dreadnought 
of  the  sea,  but  also  the  giant  passenger  liners. 
Both  the  war  and  the  peace  craft  will  be  consid- 
erably larger  in  size  than  the  19 16  type;  the  bal- 
loon portion  of  the  Zeppelin  will  have  trebled  it- 
self in  size;  it  will  be,  if  anything,  of  greater 
length  and  of  slimmer  formation,  while  the  cover- 
ing will  be  composed  of  some  light  but  durable 


THE  FUTURE  179 

metal,  such  as  aluminium,  to  prevent  the  possibil- 
ity of  explosion  of  gas  caused  by  the  firing  of  the 
guns.  The  narrow  gondola  beneath  will  be  wider, 
and  will  mount  several  guns  of  4.7-inch  or  larger 
caliber:  for  although  the  Zeppelin  of  the  future 
will  be  a  much  more  stable  and  airworthy  craft,  by 
reason  of  its  lateral  stability  it  will  never  be  pos- 
sible to  fire  a  gun  of  any  size  from  either  bow  or 
stern  of  an  airship  or  a  Zeppelin,  without  bring- 
ing the  whole  craft  canting  over,  and  possibly 
breaking  its  back.  Thus,  all  Super-Zeppelins  of 
the  future  will  be  heavily  armed  amidships,  that 
is  to  say,  where  the  proportion  of  strain  on  the 
craft  is  least  felt.  The  passenger-carrying  va- 
riety will  differ  very  slightly  from  the  war  ma- 
chine, save  that  the  gondola  will  be  deeper,  more 
graceful,  and  more  on  the  lines  of  the  hull  of  the 
present-day  ocean-going  ship  or  steamer.  The 
Parseval  and  similar  types  of  large  airship  will 
replace  the  cruiser  and  the  battle-cruiser;  also  the 
large  cargo-bearing  steamers  of  to-day. 

With  regard  to  the  aeroplane,  we  are  already 
in  possession  of  super-craft,  some  of  double  en- 
gine variety,  the  Sykorsky,  the  giant  Russian  ma- 
chine, and  the  triplane,  or  three-planed  aeroplane; 
but  it  is  extremely  doubtful  whether  it  is  possible 
for  the  aeroplane,  being  a  heavier  type  of  aircraft, 
to  develop  into  a  much  larger  size  than  it  is  to- 
day; the  reason  for  this  being  the  abnormal  en- 


i8o  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

gine-power  that  would  be  required  to  lift  such  a 
craft  from  the  ground,  and  the  fact  that  the  extra 
weight  thus  occasioned  would  render  the  whole 
craft  unairworthy.  However,  the  aeroplane  will 
fulfill  in  the  future  the  uses  of  the  light-cruiser  and 
the  torpedo-boat,  while  a  sort  of  seaplane  subma- 
rine will  fulfill  the  double  purpose  of  both  over 
and  under  water  work. 

As  a  commercial  vessel  the  aeroplane  will  only 
be  of  use  for  the  conveyance  of  passengers  and 
light  cargoes  on  short  voyages  from  Great  Britain 
to  Ireland,  Great  Britain  to  France,  Holland, 
Norway,  or  Russia. 

The  Balance  of  Power 

The  new  method  of  warfare  will  not  Influence 
to  any  material  extent  the  present  condition  of  in- 
ternational politics.  Of  all  the  Great  Powers, 
however.  Great  Britain  will  be  more  nearly  affect- 
ed. For  many  centuries  past  we  have  relied  upon 
our  natural  geographical  position,  as  an  island,  to 
protect  us  from  all  Invasion.  And  to  retain  this 
insular  and  Impregnable  position  we  have  relied 
upon  our  glorious  Navy,  which  Is,  and  always  has 
been,  mistress  of  the  seas.  But  now  we  are  no 
longer  an  Island;  that  Is  to  say,  we  are  no  longer 
protected  from  the  attacks  of  an  enemy  merely  be- 
cause we  are  surrounded  by  sea,  even  although  we 


THE  FUTURE  i8i 

maintain  the  supremacy  of  our  naval  power.  An- 
other element  has  now  to  be  considered,  namely, 
the  air,  and  that,  unfortunately,  we  do  not  hold 
with  the  same  mastery  that  we  did  the  sea.  It  will 
be  seen,  therefore,  that  for  the  safety  of  the  Em- 
pire, we  must  immediately  build  up  a  great  air 
fleet,  and  gain  the  supremacy  of  the  air.  Germany 
has  already  shown  us  the  lead  in  this  respect,  and 
we  must  not  be  content  to  follow,  but  to  improve, 
greatly  improve,  upon  that  lead.  One  thing  is 
certain,  that  the  mad  extravagant  race  for  ar- 
maments among  the  nations  will  continue,  but 
with  this  difference — that  it  will  be  for  great  fleets 
of  the  air,  as  to-day  it  is  for  large  armies  and 
great  sea  fleets. 

Future  Influences 

Thus  far  we  have  dealt  solely  with  the  influ- 
ences of  aviation  upon  warfare  and  upon  com- 
merce; but  such  influences  will  by  no  means  be  con- 
fined to  these  two  phases;  there  are  many  other 
features  in  international  life  that  the  development 
of  aeronautics  will  influence  greatly.  Foremost 
amongst  them  is  that  of  travel.  For  the  first  few 
years  the  cost  of  travel  in  the  air  will  be  apprecia- 
bly greater  than  is  now  the  case.  One  of  the  lead- 
ing aeronautical  experts  of  the  day  has  computed 
that,  to  run  a  commercial  service  of  aircraft,  to 


i82  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

cover  the  heavy  expenditure  that  will  be  incurred, 
and  to  allow  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  machines, 
it  will  be  necessary  to  make  a  charge  of  i^id.  per 
mile,  or  a  50  per  cent,  increase  on  the  rates  for 
present  day  travel  by  steamer  and  railway.  Once 
the  project  is  in  full  swing,  however,  and  the 
initial  outlay  has  been  recovered,  such  charge  will 
be  reduced  to  one  halfpenny  per  mile,  or  50  per 
cent,  less  than  present  conditions. 

In  the  matter  of  speed  and  time,  there  will  be 
a  remarkable  advantage;  for  example,  some  of 
the  proposed  air  routes  are  London  to  New  York 
in  18  hours,  London  to  Capetown  in  54,  and 
London  to  Sydney  (Australia)  in  four  days.  This 
added  economy  and  speed  will  tempt  the  traveling 
public,  and  for  that  matter  the  non-traveling  pub- 
lic further  afield,  and  will  serve  greatly  to  help 
on  education  and  the  rapid  development  of  the 
remotest  of  our  colonies,  thus  drawing  closer  the 
bond  of  union  between  the  different  portions  of 
our  great  Empire.  Countries  and  tracts  of  land 
hitherto  undeveloped  and  unknown  will  be  opened 
up  by  the  aerial  explorer,  and  whole  continents 
will,  with  the  greatest  ease,  be  policed  by  aero- 
plane and  by  airship. 

A  Future  War  with  Germany 
Will  this  war  be  followed  by  an  aerial  war  be- 


THE  FUTURE  183 

tween  Germany  and  Great  Britain  at  a  no  distant 
date?  This  depends  solely  on  the  future  course 
and  the  conclusion  of  the  present  war. 

After  some  fourteen  years'  experimenting,  In- 
venting and  developing,  and  the  expenditure  of 
several  millions  of  money.  Count  Zeppelin,  or 
rather  the  very  considerable  staff  of  experts  which 
he  has  at  his  disposal,  produced  the  modern  Zep- 
pelin :  that  Is  to  say,  the  craft  that  has  been  In  use 
since  the  outbreak  of  the  war.  What  Germany's 
policy  was  In  constructing  these  huge  craft  It  is 
not  difficult  to  discover.  Previous  to  August, 
1 9 14,  when  her  navy  was  inferior  to  only  one 
other  in  the  world,  and  that  our  own,  and  she  was 
gradually  gaining  upon  us  both  In  the  number  of 
ships  and  personnel,  very  little  was  heard  of  the 
airship  program:  the  Industry  was  given  State 
encouragement;  but  then,  to  our  cost,  we  know 
that  the  enemy  has  always  encouraged  any  new 
enterprise  that  was  likely  to  prove  of  value  from 
a  military  point  of  view.  War  was  declared.  Our 
gallant  Fleet,  by  a  series  of  brilliant  engagements, 
succeeded  In  driving  the  enemy  shipping  from  the 
seas  of  the  world,  and  In  bottling  up  the  Kaiser's 
grand  fleet  In  the  Kiel  Canal,  where  It  has  ever 
since  remained.  What  effect  did  this  have  on  the 
aircraft,  and  more  particularly  the  Zeppelin,  In- 
dustry In  Germany?  Labor  was  Instantly  with- 
drawn from  the  shipbuilding  yards,  and  turned 


1 84  THE  WAY  OF  THE  AIR 

over  to  the  construction  of  Zeppelins.  In  the  early 
stages  of  the  war  the  output  stood  at  approxi- 
mately one  a  month;  this  soon  crept  up  to  a 
couple  a  month,  then  to  three,  then  to  one  a  week, 
and  now  to-day  they  claim  that  two  Zeppelins  per 
week  are  being  turned  out  by  the  factories  that 
have  sprung  up  in  nearly  every  large  town  in  the 
German  Empire.  What  do  all  these  events  por- 
tend? Those  who  know  the  German  and  his  char- 
acteristics Intimately,  tell  us  that  at  the  back  of 
every  German  mind,  the  keenest  of  all  desires  Is 
an  invasion  of  England.  The  reason  for  this  bit- 
ter hatred  is  that  the  British  Empire  is  on  every 
hand  an  obstacle  to  the  development  of  Germany; 
we  were  their  keenest  trade  rivals,  their  most  dan- 
gerous enemy  in  the  matter  of  world  supremacy, 
and  we  were  successful  In  establishing  colonies, 
an  ambition  dear  to  every  German  heart. 

There  can  only  be  two  objects  in  view  in  the 
mind  of  the  German  Imperial  Staff :  the  one  is  a 
gigantic  air  raid  on  this  country,  as  a  last  resource 
during  the  present  war;  the  other,  a  determination 
on  the  part  of  Germany,  after  the  present  war  is 
ended  and  forgotten,  to  gain  a  considerable 
ascendancy  in  the  air,  and  thus  once  more  to  take 
her  place  as  a  martial  power  among  the  nations. 
To  prevent  this,  It  will  be  necessary  for  us  not 
only  to  destroy  her  armies  on  the  land,  and  her 
fleets  at  sea,  but  also  her  fleets  of  aircraft;  for 


THE  FUTURE  185 

Germany,  though  beaten  by  land  and  sea,  and  still 
in  possession  of  her  aircraft,  will  remain  for  ever 
a  menace  to  the  civilized  world. 


',30 


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